Fool's Game
by missmandamargo
Summary: Santana is sent away to a boarding school when her father walks in on her and Brittany in a compromising situation. She has to face the next year alone, far from friends and Lima. However, there is one surprise she didn't count on - her roommate.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This is my first Glee fanfic, so be kind.. though I welcome constructive criticism. I'll be the first to admit writing in the first person is a challenge for me, but I decided to try it with this piece. Please let me know if I sound like I'm staying true to character (for both Santana and Quinn) or if there's anything you think I could do to improve.

Also, I'm not a Spanish speaker, so please don't hate my lame attempts to include Spanish phrases.

This is set post-season one, and A/U junior year.

I hope you enjoy!

**Fool's Game**

Chapter 1

I sat with my face pressed against the glass of the bus, staring at the gray expanse of farmlands that seemed to stretch on for miles. It was an overcast day, with only a hint of autumn in the air and on the leaves. I noticed the random milk cow or group of horses, and the idyllic little white houses that dotted the horizon. Which summed up Ohio perfectly: bucolic, quaint, but boring. The lack of sun seemed to paint the distance neutrally, everything feeling washed out, muted.

My fingers dug into the leather strap of the purse sitting in my lap. I could feel the tension in my knuckles from holding on so tightly. Part of me still felt disconnected, unhinged from the reality of the situation. I was in disbelief. This just didn't feel real – this wasn't my life. I wasn't on a four hour long bus ride to an even smaller, shit bucket little town in the outskirts of Ohio, just days before the start of my junior year.

Don't get me wrong – Lima was everything I wanted away from. I hate that place with a passion. But it was still mine; and I had planned to spend at least the next two years running it. I knew who I was in Lima. I had no idea what to expect out of this new town, this new school – and I was utterly alone.

I replayed the last discussion I had with my father before he shoved me on this bus to nowhere. My brows knitted, furrowing, lips pressing tight against the wall of anger that built in my chest. I never did learn how to communicate with my papa. He and I were too much alike – at least that's what my mother said. We both exploded at the slightest provocation, spitting words with venom and borderline hate. Since when did I hate my dad? I guess I don't. But right now, it was hard to convince myself of that. He had made this decision without my input, and would brook no argument against it. His word was law, and until I turned eighteen, there was no fighting him about it.

It sounds cliché, but he was – well, _is_ – shipping me off to boarding school. I didn't 'preform to his expectations' at McKinley. I spent too much time chasing boys, singing and dancing in glee club, or cheerleading to care too much about my grades. I usually rolled my eyes and scoffed at that; what did _he_ know about what was important in high school? Well, I always passed my classes. I never had to take summer courses or hire a tutor. But my grades were just okay, average really. Not that I'm not smart enough to make As. I'm just too busy with other things.

See, mi papa really wants me to follow in his footsteps as a doctor. I think once he realized I would be his only child he decided I would just have to do, even though I'm a girl. Yeah, yeah – I'm not trying to paint a poor-pitiful-me picture. It's just how it is. He wanted a son to help him with his private practice he has set up, to carry on the family tradition, yadda-yadda-yadda. I never had any interest in anything about his career except for the endless amount of cash he left on my debit card. Like clockwork, the numbers would go up every month in my account on the same day. Cha-ching. Being an only child does have its perks, after all.

Well, he got it into his head that I would excel in a smaller private school. A boarding school. An all-girl's boarding school. Kill me!

"You are so spoiled, Santana," My father said, his voice sullen and face reddening by the minute. "You value nothing. You think you deserve all these pretty things? You didn't earn any of it."

I huffed, returning his glare, but kept silent. What was I supposed to say? If I'm spoiled, it's his fault.

"This is for your own good. You need an education so that you can make something of yourself."

"Papa, I am _getting_ an education! I'm going to apply for a cheerleading scholarship next year. I'll go to college and do something useful. Just don't send me to that podunk little village, I'll _die_ there!"

If he wasn't so mad, I think he might have laughed. "Santana, there will be no argument. I have already paid the tuition. Mija, try to look on the bright side. It's a fresh start."

My face wrinkled with too many emotions to name. I hated this, hated it. What was I going to do? I can't move. I can't spend all school year miles away from my friends. Crazy thoughts darted through my mind – I could run away. That was just pure panic setting in, though. I know I couldn't run away.

"It'll do you good to get away from that Brittany girl," he mumbled, as we stood there, staring at each other. His eyes flashed darkly, daring me to refute him.

That Brittany girl. Aiie. My face flushed with the memory of him walking in so unexpectedly – finding me in_ that_ position. I could see his face getting an even darker shade of crimson, if that was possible. He was just as embarrassed as I was.

"Dad, she's my friend." I tried to talk softly, but he flinched as if I had slapped him. I grimaced in response. We had never talked about – it. I kept hoping he would ignore it and act like it hadn't happened. Apparently, he hadn't, and this was his solution: ship me off to some quiet corner where I couldn't _shame_ him with my bizarre behavior.

"She's a bad influence! You need to forget about her! Go pack your bags, Santana. We're leaving tomorrow morning!" He slammed his hands down on the table in front of him decisively, then turned and stormed out of the living room.

I squeezed my eyes against the memory, fighting back hot tears. I had cried that whole night on the phone to Brittany, who didn't seem to understand. She kept asking me to repeat it over and over again, and it made me cry harder. With me gone, who is going to help Britt understand things? She's so innocent and helpless. I had promised her way back in seventh grade to help her graduate. What was I going to do now?

Still, I'm smart. I knew that no matter how much begging or raging I did, my father wouldn't relent. My mother tiptoed around the house like a ghost, afraid of setting either one of us off. What killed me the most was that I didn't even get the chance to say goodbye to Brittany, or Puck, or any of those other goons. I would have even liked to say goodbye to Rachel, depart with one last remark about her resembling an Israeli hobbit.

"I'll see you at Thanksgiving, Britt," I had told her once the snuffles and sobs had died down. She just sat there quietly, breathing into the phone. Even across the digital space I could feel her confusion. She still didn't understand. "I'll write you letters, and text you every day. I'll call you, too. It'll be okay, Brittany." I was trying desperately to comfort her, even though I felt small and angry.

"You'll write me?" Her tone perked up at that. "Like, we'll be pen pals?"

I smiled quietly into the phone, letting go of a ragged breath. "Yeah, just like pen pals. And I'll send you pictures and stuff, to put on your wall. It'll be okay. It's just for a few weeks, then we'll get to see each other again." My heart tied itself into a tight knot, thinking about Brittany. I still couldn't handle the emotions that swamped me every time I heard her voice, or saw her smile, or felt her kiss. I love Brittany – she's been my best friend since preschool. But love, love? Maybe. Could be. Who knows?

"All right, San. If you say so." Her tone was so trusting. I could tell she was still upset, but if I said it was going to be okay, she believed me. I had to squeeze my eyes so tight, forcing the tears to stay there.

I was jarred out of the memory by the bus's sudden halt. I snapped my gaze around at the other passengers, noting that most of them were waking up out of light dozes. A quick glance out my window revealed that we had arrived at the station. How had I missed that? Craning my neck, I looked back the way we came, and saw nothing of any kind of town – just green pastures, and the long snaky line of the asphalt that brought me here. I groaned inwardly. This place was so small, its bus station didn't even have a proper town. Were there even enough people here to qualify as a community?

I gathered my duffle bags and my purse, sliding my sunglasses on to cover my eyes before I even left the bus. I knew there would be some kind of welcoming committee from the school here to collect me, and any other girls. I scanned the slow shuffle of bodies as they made their way towards the front, trying to see if any of the girls looked about my age. There was one blonde girl towards the front of the bus, and a redhead only five bodies in front of me. Great, at least a couple from my neck of the woods. Probably not Lima, but maybe we knew each other from parties or mutual friends.

I was nearly the last one off the bus, and I stepped onto the cement dock, blinking behind my shades. There was a cold gray building with ticket selling windows a few yards behind it, and a small mass of people moving around. I sighed, searching for anything with the telltale Atherton emblem etched on it. My father told me there would be an escort waiting.

There – I finally noticed her, an older girl, about eighteen, holding up a very glitzy looking laminated sign that read simply: Atherton Academy. She had long, straight honey colored hair and a heart-shaped face with pink lips and perfect blue eyes. I tried to swallow the bile that rose in my throat at just how cheeky and simpering she looked. I bet her voice was annoying, like Berry's. I had to grit my teeth against the slurry of insults that jostled behind them, begging to be set free. I stomped over to her and laid my bags down near her feet without a word.

"Oh, hello!" She piped, and my jaw clenched. "I'm Rosemary. Are you Beverly?"

I raised an eyebrow at her. "My name is Santana."

Her eyebrows shot up, and she consulted a tiny notepad I hadn't noticed she'd been holding. "Oh, yes, I see! Well, it's nice to meet you." Her grin was huge, revealing giant pearly teeth. She extended a hand for a handshake, which I only grudgingly returned. I pinched my face into a mask of bitchy indifference: my signature look. It usually kept me safe in situations like this – people tended to leave me alone.

"We're just waiting for Madison and Beverly, and then we'll be ready to head on out." She jiggled on the balls of her feet as she said it, clicking a pen idly. I rolled my eyes and suppressed a sigh. I really, really hope not all of the people who go to this school are so… annoying.

The two girls I spotted on the bus made their way over to us, each one of them wearing that doe-eyed expression I associated with freshmen. Perfect, just perfect. In my world, freshmen equated with completely useless. Even if we knew people in the same circles back in Lima, I would never associate with them. I bit back a groan. This was going to be so much torture.

**A/N:** I know it's short, but the next few chapters will be much longer, I promise.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The drive to Atherton Academy was just as boring as the one out here to this little town, called Morrow. Except for the five mile stretch that passed as the town proper, it felt more like heading out to summer camp in some secluded wilderness than a lofty private academy. It's one of the best in the state, and the only nonreligious all-girls one within five hundred miles. Sheesh. I didn't even know we still had boarding schools in America. I thought everyone who went to boarding school went to someplace in Europe?

I could tell we were going higher into the mountains, however, because the greenery got darker and the trees more common. The flat farmland fell away and hills and meadows appeared. It was about forty-five minutes of nervous silence, me sitting shotgun to bubbly, perky Rosemary while the two freshmen sat in the back of an expensive maroon SUV. The license plate had read: 4THRT0N. I assumed it was a school vehicle, but if it was Rosemary's personal ride, I pitied the girl. Who had that much school spirit?

All right, so the campus is pretty amazing. It opened up in front of us abruptly, nestled in a dip in the hills, with giant redwoods and other trees surrounding it on all sides. We had to drive down a long, spirally road and then enter through some gates, but it reminded me of that castle the kids in X-Men live in. It was all stone and mortar, different shades of gray and slate. There was what passed for a pond or a lake off to the far east of a front lawn, and endless woods surrounding on all other sides. It looked like a mansion or a fort, towering at least four stories high with pillars out front and large, glossy windows reflecting the late afternoon sun.

Rosemary pulled directly in front of the stairs which led to the main entrance and parked. She chattered happily about the campus, talking nonstop to the silent freshmen who stared at her with awe and fear. I couldn't take my eyes off the giant building, a little intimidated by its size and mass. It seemed so lonely – but then, there were zero other humans roaming about. Just us four girls. I glanced around, trying to see if there was anybody by the lake.

"Where is everybody?" I asked, the first thing I'd voiced since I met Rosemary. She blinked, startled.

"Most students don't arrive until tomorrow. Today we are welcoming freshmen," she smiled warmly at the two new girls, "and transfers." The look she gave me was, what? Almost apologetic. I grunted in response, shouldering my bags. I wondered if that meant transfers were rare. Probably. Who would want to show up to this gigantic place and try to assimilate with a group of kids who have all known each other since ninth grade?

Well, I'm used to being an outsider. Sort of. At McKinley, I was definitely head bitch in charge – but I didn't really have many friends. Just a lot of admirers, and worshipers, and people who feared me. I like it that way. My only true friend is Brittany, and I don't expect that to change much here at Atherton.

I followed her inside, and was met with cool marble floors and a giant sweeping staircase. It was dim inside, mostly because the skylights weren't helping much due to the overcast day, and it was still too early to turn on artificial lights. A set of glittering doors lined one wall, and then archways led to the left and right.

"This is the administration wing," Rosemary said helpfully. "Upstairs you'll find the dorm rooms, and then to the left and right are the classrooms. Right now, I'm going to help you all find your rooms, and then show you where the auditorium is. Orientation is at eight." She smiled, leading the way up that phenomenal, trailing staircase.

It took forever to find the junior dorms, it seemed. Freshmen were located on the second floor, then sophomores on the third, and seniors and juniors had the top wing. The lower two levels housed additional classrooms, but the highest floor was dedicated only to student housing. I couldn't even begin to take in all the sights that bombarded me – the honeycomb of dorms were interrupted by random game rooms, libraries, study halls. I would never begin to navigate it.

"Here we are," Rosemary said cheerfully, pushing in the glossy mahogany door with the heavy brass doorknob. The dorm room read 414 in shiny yellow numbers. I noticed right away the full sized bed, bare mattress, and fancy looking desk that sat right beside it. My eyes glanced swiftly to the second bed occupying the space, with a matching desk at its foot.

"Wait, what the hell?" I muttered, turning to my guide. Her eyebrows shot up and her peachy skin colored at my expletive. "I have a roommate?"

"Uh, well, yes," she seemed nervous, fidgeting with her notepad. "There are no single rooms available right now. You were a late transfer." Her sentence trailed off and ended in a tiny squeak, because the look I was giving her could have scarred almost anyone.

I just shook my head, disgusted, and barreled into the room, flopping my bags and purse down on the unoccupied bed. I spent another glance at the opposite bed, noticing that it already had sheets and a dark russet comforter, along with a duffle bag and other knick knacks laid out.

"I thought you said everyone else would be here tomorrow?" I couldn't help that my tone was so biting, I was furious! My father had promised me a single room. I've never shared a room in my life, and was not prepared to do it now. But the feeling of helpless rage I'd held in my gut since before I left kept me quiet. I saw no alternative to this situation, and I was reminding myself repeatedly that it's too early to make enemies.

"Hmm.. " Rosemary glanced at the made bed as well, then consulted her notepad. "Oh, it says here you're bunking with another transfer student." She seemed to brighten up at that, like it was good news. I rolled my eyes, and began to dig furiously through my duffle bag for my sheets and blankets.

"Don't forget about orientation at eight," Rosemary said softly, almost a whisper, and I just waved my fingers at her, refusing to even look up from making my bed. She shut the door with a small click.

Once she was gone, I just laid down and pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, tight, making small white starbursts explode behind my lids. I was fighting the deep, ragged breaths that preceded a huge break down. I squeezed back the tears that were trying to leak out of my eyes.

_Cool it, Santana. You can't cry like this. It's not going to get you any favors in this place._ I eased up on the pressure on my eyes, blinking back the blurriness and stinging that the rubbing brought on. My chest was still moving up and down, breaths exploding unevenly, but the tightness in my throat was under control. It was only just now 6:30, I had to get through orientation and meeting this roommate of mine before I could fully break down.

I spent the next half hour arranging my side of the room. I set up my laptop on my desk, and some framed pictures of me and Britt. I thought about putting up posters, but then decided against it – the walls were such a glossy shade of beige, I bet they charged extra on your tuition if you put pushpin holes in them. My bed was raised up, and underneath there were three long drawers, for clothes I guess. At the foot of the bed there were shelves that blocked the bed from direct line of sight to the door. I also noticed there was a place along the ceiling to hang a curtain, to block off the bed from the rest of the room. _Good, I'll put that on my list of must-haves._

I began exploring the rest of the dorm room, only eyeing my roommate's space, but not daring to go through her things. I may be a bitch, but I understand boundaries. I would straight cut somebody who rifled through my stuff, and I don't want to give the girl the wrong impression. I did notice that her style was extremely different from mine. Her bed set was a deep rouge color, with light pink sheets. Her desk, instead of being next to her bed like mine was, was at the foot of the bed on the other side of her shelves. She had a closed Apple laptop sitting there as well. No pictures, but the flowery print on her comforter made me think she would probably be just like Rosemary. I sighed inwardly. My comforter was black, my sheets were black. Even my picture frames were black. The only splash of color to my décor was the little plush unicorn Brittany had given me for my birthday, with a rainbow mane and hooves. I brought it with me because it smelled like her.

There were two giant wooden chests in the room as well, which were wardrobes I guessed. I pulled the one closest to my side open, and sure enough – moth balls rolled out, and the overwhelming smell of cedar trickled from it. Yuck. I closed the door. So, what did this other door lead to? I turned the doorknob to find it locked. I frowned, then jiggled the handle.

"Hey, is someone in there?" I rapped on the door, and pressed my ear against it. Sure enough – I could kind of hear breathing or maybe light scuffling.

I stood there, staring at the door, in complete shock. I had no idea there had been somebody in here with me the whole time. I'm glad I hadn't cried or something stupid like that. But what the hell was this creeper up to? It had been almost an hour since Rosemary dropped me off.

I had no idea what to do or say. This was possibly the most awkward situation I've ever been in. I mean, this had to be my roommate, right? Why was she hiding in the bathroom? There's no way she didn't know I was out here. I took a deep breath and then knocked again. "Hey, are you okay?" I was surprised at the level of concern in my voice. I mean – I hadn't even laid eyes on this chick yet. But I was going to spend the next nine months bunking with her, so might as well play nice.

"Uh, yeah," came a muffled voice. "Just hold on a sec."

I scowled at the closed door, shuffling my feet impatiently. I felt my muscles tense into what I commonly thought of as my fight-or-flight response. This always happens whenever I'm in a situation where I have no clue what's going to happen next. It made my face into a hard mask, my teeth gritting behind my lips, my hands curled into loose fists at my sides.

I could hear the water running, some snuffling noises, and then footsteps. The door clicked open quietly and I barely had time to register that the door was open before shock swept my body like an unexpected slushie to the face.

"Whoa! Holy shit, Fabray!" I yelled, my eyes wide and my mouth open. My hands shot out in surprise, and I almost rushed her – though hugging wasn't my thing, especially not with Quinn. But still. I had never in a million years thought she'd be the face on the other side of the door!

"San.. tana?" Her voice was stuffy, like she'd been crying. Her eyes were screwed up in confusion. Her long hair was in a messy pony tail and she was wearing jeans and a white polo shirt. Her face was only a little blotchy, though, so she probably hadn't been crying the whole time. "What are you doing here?"

I laughed. "Seriously? What are _you_ doing here, Blondie?" I smirked. I felt like some of my old rhythm was coming back. I was in an isolated town in the middle of nowhere, miles from my friends and family, but yet a little slice of Lima had followed me all the way out here.

She brushed past me, heading for her bed, eyebrows furrowed like she was trying to collect her thoughts. "I got transferred. My parents thought it might be best." The irony in her voice was thick. I turned to face her. She was sitting on the bed, staring straight ahead.

I sighed. Quinn would not have been my first choice of companion from dear old Lima (that would have been Brittany, of course). Still, she wasn't my last choice either. It could have been worse – what if it had been Rachel Smurfette Berry on the other side of the door? I remembered to glance inside and then nodded to myself, noting it was a bathroom.

I waltzed over to my own bed and sat down, facing her. There was a good ten feet between us. The dorm was pretty roomy. "Mine too. I only got told last night. I think my dad was trying to spring it on me so I couldn't make an escape plan." My lips curved slightly when I said this, though my tone was dry. I searched her face, trying to decipher something, anything she was thinking or feeling. Quinn had always been a mystery to me – she kept her feelings guarded. The opposite of me: my emotions were like a tempest, raging on my face for everyone to see – from happiness to hatred, my features gave it all away. I envied Quinn her ability to shut down her face, make it into a wall that nobody could see through. I only had my words, but they usually did the job of keeping others away.

She refused to make eye contact with me, however. Her tone was flat when she said, "Well, why? I mean, it's obvious why I'm here – teen pregnancy statistic." She swallowed the bitterness that accompanied that statement. "All-girl's school. You know. Wouldn't want a repeat of sophomore year."

My face tightened with empathy, though I would never ever express it. Quinn and I had been friends, once – right after she had moved from Belleville. She had reminded me of Brittany at first, all open innocence and sweetness. It didn't take her long to dissuade me of that opinion. Still, we had each other's backs at McKinley, mostly. We had been the Unholy Trinity early on, as freshmen. Then I realized that back home, without Quinn, Brittany would be very alone. My heart dropped.

Quinn was staring at me before I realized she had asked me a question, and I had to drag my thoughts away from Britt. "Oh, uh." I shook myself mentally. "My dad, he.. he said I needed a better education." I made air quotes around the last two words. "That McKinley wasn't properly grooming the future Doctor Lopez." I rolled my eyes big. I wasn't going to be a doctor, not in a million years.

Her face softened, though she didn't entirely smile. "What are the odds of us rooming together?" She glanced around. "This doesn't seem real."

I smiled at her then, a true smile. "Yeah, I know what you mean. They probably lumped us together because we're the only outsiders in this grade."

She seemed to be relaxing by degrees. "Fine by me. But honestly, Santana," her voice was dry and serious. "I'm not going to be able to deal with you sneaking in boys or whatever. If my parents thought for a second –"

I cut her off. "Hey, shut it, Fabray!" My eyes flashed furiously. "Just what the hell are you implying?" My tone was defensive, angry. I knew what she was implying; but I also knew she didn't have the balls to come right out and say it.

She held her hands up in front of her as a peace offering. "I don't want to fight with you, Santana. We.." she let out a shaky breath, ran her hand through her hair. "We need to stick together. I know we aren't best friends, but we're all we have right now."

I scowled at her, still edgy over the comment she had made. "I can handle myself just fine, Teen Mom. I don't need you."

I shoved myself off my bed, disgusted. I started to roam around the room restlessly. I would have left and slammed the door if I had any freaking idea where to go. But getting lost in this castle of a school was more daunting than staying here with holier-than-thou Quinn Fabray. I picked up a paper weight Britt had given me, a glass with bubbles inside of it, then slammed it down angrily.

I could hear the mattress squeak underneath her as she stood up, but I refused to look at her. All of the craziness of the last couple of days was weighing down on me, and now this – my "reputation" from Lima, still haunting me. Who was she to talk? At least I was smart enough not to get knocked up by Puckerman.

I bristled at the weight of her palm against my shoulder, but I didn't jerk away. I noticed the smell of lavender wafting from her. It reminded me of endless cheer practice, sleep overs, and glee rehearsals. It put me a little at ease, though only grudgingly.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was quiet, and heavy with emotion – maybe tears. I wasn't looking at her so I didn't know if she was about to cry. She took a heavy breath. "Please, Santana. I shouldn't have said anything. I'm just so…" she trailed off, then huffed out a broken laugh. "I'm just so pissed. And scared. I want to go home."

I turned to face her, trying my hardest to swallow the acid that wanted to spew out. I nodded one sharp nod, shifted my arms across my chest, and stepped away from her.

I sat back down and picked up my phone, looking for the time. It was around 7:30, close to time to boogie. I eyed Quinn, who stood there, cupping her elbows, looking down at me with the scariest look. I couldn't name it. Was it sorrow? Too heavy for me.

"It's almost time for that orientation thing." I told her, then lied down against my pillows and rummaged around in my nearest duffle bag.

"Yeah?" She sniffled.

"Mmhmm." I found my iPod, unwound the earplugs, then clicked it on and shoved the ear buds into my ears. I closed my eyes and got lost in Alanis Morrisett.

A few moments passed. "Santana." She said it sternly, a little bit like the head cheerleader I remembered. I yanked one ear bud out. "Are you going to orientation?"

I barked out a sharp laugh. "No way. Are you kidding?"

She didn't argue with me like I thought she would. Instead she just went to her own bed and shifted around on top of the blankets.

When I woke up, it was dark in the room, with only the small lamp on Quinn's desk on to give any light to the shadowy space. My iPod had long ago turned itself off, the headphones having fallen away from my ears. I let out a small groan, rubbing my eyes in irritation. I hate taking naps – they always screw with me. They make me feel hot and dehydrated, disoriented, and grumpy. The strange thing was, I couldn't quite place what had woken me up. I probably could have slept well into the next morning if it hadn't been for, well, something..

I snapped my head around to stare in the general direction of Quinn's bed. My ears picked up on it then, a soft, faint sobbing noise. The girl was facing away from me, and I could just barely see the glow of her phone that was clutched in her hands. She was crying about something and staring at her cell phone.

I was torn. Quinn couldn't have known I woke up, and she probably didn't want me to know she was crying. I know that I would rather swallow razor blades than break down in front of Quinn Fabray. Still, my heart pulled and cracked with every ragged breath I could hear from her. My mind was foggy with memories of us as younger girls, doing each other's hair and gossiping about boys. I sighed, then slowly rolled off of my bed, padding silently over to Quinn's.

She continued crying, though she may have heard my bed squeak. I don't know. She startled only slightly when I laid down beside her, snuggling close and smoothing a palm over her long, honey hair. She choked on one big sob, then really let loose. The sound was almost animalistic – I had never heard _anyone_ cry like that in my life, like something wounded or shattered. My other arm snaked around and beneath her, clutching her frail body closer to mine, and I simply held her. I didn't know what else to do.

Time passed like that, Quinn facing away from me while the tears choked her and sobs rattled her. Every time the light on her phone went dim, she pressed a button to keep it bright. I couldn't see past her shoulder in order to know what exactly she was looking at, so I could only guess. My free hand continually stroked down her long, smooth hair, my fingertips occasionally massaging into her scalp.

Finally, she began to quiet down, with only her moist, thick breathing breaking the silence between us. I still didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say.

She began wiping away the hot tears on her cheeks, and finally clicked the phone off. The bright glow vanished, making the room darker. She sighed one final time, and I could tell she was done crying for now.

"I'm sorry that I woke you." Her voice was hushed.

"It's okay." I said simply.

Quinn shook her head. "I can't believe this is happening, Santana. I can't believe any of this. I feel like my life is a nightmare."

I nodded, but I didn't fully understand what she was talking about. Being transferred – that was pretty much a nightmare, but it didn't make me want to have an emotional breakdown, not really. At least not yet.

Then something dawned on me. "Have you seen her?"

Quinn's body tensed, and she let out a little squeak, as if she was trying to fight back more tears. "No. No. Shelby and I have a closed adoption. I haven't seen her since the hospital." She brushed away a few of the fat tears that squeezed down her cheeks.

I nodded, and the understanding fully hit me. Quinn wasn't just crying about being sent away, she was crying about her baby. What was her name-? Beth? I remember now. I had been there when she was born, and had glanced at the thing through the delivery room window. I didn't have any feelings about Quinn's pregnancy by Puckerman, except disdain. Everyone in the school knew Puck and I had a thing, and on top of that, little miss Chastity Club was with Finn. I never admitted to anyone, even myself, that it sort of hurt that Quinn would do that. But I didn't stay mad at her. There was no point: us girls swapped boyfriends like other friends swapped friendship bracelets. If I had heard right, even Brittany had slept with Puck at some point, while there was such a thing as 'Pucktana.' Oh well.

I simply rubbed my hand over her bare arm, chasing away the chill I felt there.

"I'm sorry, Quinn." It was all I could think to say. I've never been very good at words, unless it was to tear somebody down. I'm completely useless at making people feel better. Well – there is one exception, and that's Brittany. But that's just because Britt and I are so easy. We just fit together, like puzzle pieces. I never have to apologize to her, and she never has to explain herself to me. We just _get_ each other. Simple as that.

Quinn was a whole different can of worms. The girl was so closed and controlled, I never had any clue what was going on with her.

She nodded and shrugged, and then shifted in the bed so that her face was pointed upwards. I could get a better look at her, and boy, did she look awful. The passionate crying had turned her creamy complexion into a minefield of red, puffy blotches. Her nose and eyes were swollen, her lips unnaturally red. I smiled at her, because I felt like she needed it. She met my gaze awkwardly and tried to smile back.

"So," She chuckled quietly. "What made you decide to come snuggle with me? Trying to cop a feel?" Her words were so deadpanned, but I could tell by the way her lips peeked upwards that she was just teasing with me.

I scoffed, shoving her shoulder a little. "Oh, you know. Pretty girls are my weakness, especially when they cry."

Her eyes bugged out, as if she couldn't believe I said that. I laughed at her stunned expression, poking a finger into her ribs gently. I knew about the rumors at McKinley. I mean, who didn't? Brittany _had_ told everyone at school that we were having sex. It bothered me, but not much at this point. I still had boys begging at my feet, and I had my pick of any one of them.

"Well, I'm flattered, Santana, but I'm really not that into that." She smiled at me though.

I huffed a little bit, scooting away from her, putting some space between our bodies. I also lied flat, staring at the ceiling. I let the silence settle between us before I jerked my head up and stared at her. "Wait, what? What do you mean you aren't _that_ into it? Exactly how into it are you?"

She laughed genuinely then, though it was only a short one. "Yeah, I've had some experience.. there were a few drunken parties." She smiled at me knowingly.

My mind tripped and stumbled over that idea, and those images. "You're joking! Not you, Jesus-Loves-Me!" I could feel the deep gut laughter boiling up inside me, and I just let it out. The idea was hysterical. Quinn had always been such a religious prude, always staring down her nose at Brittany and I at every party we ever went to where we got trashed, made out with boys (or each other) and had sex with somebody in the back of their truck. Every snide, condescending remark she had ever made to me replayed in my brain, and I hooted even louder.

She was slapping at me playfully now, scandalized at the amusement I got out of it. "It's not _that_ funny, Lopez.."

I snorted, my face scrunched in a grin. "With who? The only other girl at McKinley I've ever heard of who kissed other girls is Brittany." Suddenly, my smile died. It was like my face just swallowed it, and my eyes were deadly serious when they met hers. I couldn't handle the thought of Brittany kissing Quinn – for some reason, it just made my heart hurt.

Her eyebrows shot up. "Oh, no! Not Britt!" She let loose a nervous laugh. "Um, uh.. you just aren't going to believe this." She rubbed her fingertips over her knitted eyebrows, staring up at the dark ceiling. "And you can't ever tell _anyone._"

I grinned mischievously. "You have my word."

Quinn let loose one giant breath and then said really quickly: "Rachel."

My jaw dropped and my eyes popped wide open. "No! No freaking way!"

Quinn just nodded, and though I couldn't really see it, I think her face got darker. I stared at her in amazement, incredulous. "You.. and Rachel _Berry? _Are you serious? She looks like a drag queen!"

Quinn chuckled a bit at that. "She's not that bad, Santana." She ran her hand through her hair. "She wanted to try it. We were drunk, and Puck and Finn were there, so.." I could feel her shrug next to me.

"Oh, god. Oh my god!" I just wheezed out the tiniest of laughs, because shock still had a stranglehold on my throat. I slowly stared at the ceiling again, completely lost in the idea of Quinn and Rachel making out. It was beyond weird.

Quinn fidgeted nervously. "Say something."

"Uh.." I glanced back at her to see her green eyes staring at me intently. I quickly turned back to the ceiling. "Well, that's your problem." My voice was void of emotion, and so was my face. "No wonder you aren't _'that into it.'_ Kissing Rachel has to be like kissing a hermaphrodite."

Quinn sputtered on her laughter, choking. I grinned then, repressing a tiny chuckle. When she was calm, she asked me softly, "Are you gay, Santana?"

What! I sprang out of the bed when she said that. My eyes darted around the room crazily, trying to avoid looking at the blond sprawled out on the top of her comforter. It was like those blankets had burned me, and I had pin wheeled to get as far away from them as possible. Quinn was facing me now, and her mask was back on; she was looking at me with the most inscrutable expression.

"Whoa, whoa, now, Blondie," I said hastily, plopping back down on my bed. "Don't get the wrong idea about this. I was just—" I made an impatient gesture with my hands. "You were—"

She held up one finger, gesturing for silence. "I know. You were being nice." Her eyebrow quirked, as if that came as a big surprise. "I didn't mean, about this.. just.. you and Brittany. You guys are, like, together, right?"

I jerked my shoulders into a shrug, bringing my palms around to cup my elbows. "No. I don't know. I mean, we're best friends." I flashed her one of my patented Santana smirks. "We kiss and stuff sometimes, but we aren't together."

Quinn studied me for a moment, and looked like she wanted to ask another question, but then decided against it. "Okay. Well, I knew that I guess." She rolled back onto her back and laid her hands against her stomach. I shook my head, trying to rid my face of some of the heat I felt. My whole body felt light and like it was on fire, and I was almost dizzy.

I huffed a little bit and then dug through my second duffle bag, searching for pajamas. I glanced at my cell phone and noted the time. 12:24 am. Great. I had slept enough to be considered a full night's sleep in my book, and I knew there was nothing to do around here before 6 am.

I grabbed my wad of pajamas and toiletries and headed towards the bathroom, shutting the door behind me with a click. It seemed strange to leave the room to change in front of Quinn – we had seen each other naked too many times to count. But right after that discussion we just had.. I felt my heart stutter a little bit in my chest. If Quinn was asking me if I'm gay, then who else is thinking it? I shook my head sharply, trying to make the thought disappear.

This bathroom was gorgeous. It had a standing glass shower and a toilet, and a huge marble vanity with shelves and cabinents. It wasn't very big, but it would do well enough for me and Fabray.

I pulled off my jeans and red tank top, exchanging them for soft white cotton pajama pants and a blue t-shirt. I brushed out my hair and examined myself in the huge mirror, noticing that my makeup was smeared and crusty looking. With a sigh, I began washing my face and scrubbing, then took out my toothbrush and toothpaste.

Scoured clean and changed, I walked back into the dorm room, to find Quinn nestled beneath her blankets and rolled towards the wall. My eyebrow quirked. I guess she was done talking for tonight. Shrugging, I padded back to my bed and laid down, holding my phone to my chest.

I had four text messages from Brittany.

-_Hey. Did u make it? _

_ -I miss u. _

_ -Why hvnt u txtd me?_

_ -Im goin to bed. Hope ur ok. Luv u._

I sighed, then punched the touch screen keyboard.

-_I'm fine, Britt. It's been a long day. This place reminds me of Harry Potter. It's like a castle. You will never guess who my roommate is. _I glanced over at Quinn, then pressed SEND.

I sighed, rolled over, and scooted beneath my black blanket. I wasn't tired, but there was nothing else to do. I'm sure there's some kind of curfew. Tomorrow would be my first full day at this place, and I needed to get my bearings before classes started on Monday.

I clutched my Brittany unicorn, nuzzling my face into the soft scent that was a mixture of jasmine and peaches, and sat staring at the wall until I finally fell asleep.

**A/N:** Yes, no? Comments welcome.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Like I said, not a Spanish speaker. :/

Thanks about the tip on anonymous reviews! :D

Chapter 3

I scowled brutally at the huge cafeteria, my arms crossed defiantly across my chest, feet planted firmly in the archway that led from one of the various hallways to this particular dining hall. In front of me, all I could see was a sea of blond – all those Euro-Caucasian girls, a veritable mass of perfect identical Disney princesses. The occasional glint of red or brown was accompanied by deathly pale skin and bright blue or gray eyes. It was even more disconcerting that they all were wearing the same purple and white uniforms; dark purple cardigans over crisp white shirts, white and purple plaid knee-high skirts, shiny black shoes with white stockings. Quinn and I were the only ones wearing normal clothes – a pair of khaki Bermuda shorts for the blonde, with a black t-shirt, and myself in snug flare-legged jeans and a white peasant top. Quinn had paused beside me to take in the sight, though I doubted she noticed the same thing I did.

"C'mon, Santana," she muttered, wrapping her fingers around the crook of my elbow, and tugging me into that mass of giggling, chattering golden-haired females.

"What is _with_ this place? It reminds me of Children of the Corn," I said, bitingly, though my tone was low. My brows furrowed darkly at every passing body, each more flawless and cookie-cutter than the last.

"What are you talking about?" Quinn asked quizzically, pulling me in line for the breakfast bar. It sported high class organic options, like scrambled eggs from free-range chickens and vegan muffins. Barf. I scowled at the whole grain bagels and soy milk cartons. Berry would probably be in heaven right now if she could see this spread.

"Oh, you know, just that we left reality and stepped into a twilight world where all the future Stepford Wives are groomed." I sneered, and decided on a plate of toast with some jelly. Nothing else looked even remotely appetizing. Quinn had been stacking her tray with a fruit cup, yogurt, and a breakfast sandwich. I raised my brow at her choice, and she just shrugged. We made our way to a small table tucked in the corner of the huge hall, the wave of feminine voices rising around us like the buzzing of a million cheerful bees.

Quinn was scanning the crowd, and then her eyes widened in understanding. "Oh, you mean –"

"Yeah, everyone here is white," I muttered, ripping open a packet of low fat whipped butter to spread with a black plastic knife on my toast. Quinn was looking at me again with that guarded face, which annoyed me to no end. I couldn't stand not being able to guess what she was thinking. I jerked my gaze to meet hers and then tilted my head. She blushed and dropped her gaze.

"It.. I.. guess I didn't notice right away." She took a bite of the hot sandwich.  
>"You wouldn't, Barbie. You should fit right in. These are all <em>tu pueblo.<em>" I sneered. I owned my Latina heritage, though for all intents and purposes my family was far from living without plumbing and in dirt huts in South America. My mother and father still spoke fluent Spanish, and so do I, but some of my younger cousins never bothered to learn. I usually didn't care about things like the ethnicity of a person or a group of people, but I stuck out like a black goat in a herd of milk cows. Or something. And it pissed me off.

"Santana," Quinn said quietly, her voice full of warmth. "You're going to be okay. I thought you liked being different?"

I huffed, glaring daggers at her. _Of course_ I like being different. But whitebread Quinn would never be able to understand what it's like – especially in places like Podunk, Ohio. The way some people could stare at you like you were trash. The things they would say to you just because you looked a certain way. I bet Quinn has never experienced a moment of prejudice in her life (barring all that teen pregnancy drama). And because she never judged anyone based on their skin or heritage, she assumed everyone else was as accepting. _Sweet, but naïve, Blondie._

"Just drop it," I said, my tone flat. I tore into my toast, but it was too dry and it clogged my throat, making it hard to chew. I strangled down one bite and then took a sip of Quinn's water.

Quinn sighed, looking at me over her fruit cup. I could tell she was thinking, because her gaze kept darting from me to all the other girls who surrounded us, in pretty little seamless blonde cliques. I didn't doubt that within a week, Quinn would insinuate herself with the biggest group of top bitches here, and forget my name. Oh well. I shrugged resolutely. I had no intention of hanging on to Quinn's coattails. Quinn's one of those girls who has an incessant need to be the most popular, most well-liked, most well-respected girl in school. It was kind of neurotic, actually.

"I have an idea." She said suddenly, and pushed herself away from our table. She reached down, collecting her tray – which still had half its contents unopened on it – and then reached for my hand, dragging me up. I started at the gesture, but allowed myself to be brought to my feet.

"What are we doing?" I sputtered, as Quinn quickly threw her garbage away and then led us out of the mess hall. I was totally lost in this labyrinth of a school, so I trusted her, following her blindly down marble-floored corridors with rose-filigree wallpaper and past dozens of doors that stood open or closed. Finally, we reached the staircase landing, and she began the long ascent up to the fourth floor, her hand clamped tightly around mine, making me take quick, hurried steps to match her stride.

I was slightly winded when we reached our dorm room, and extremely flustered. She bounded in the door and began digging around in one of her drawers, tossing things like hair ties and socks onto the floor haphazardly.

"I understand why you think you would need to work off that breakfast you just ate," I said between some airy breaths, "But exactly what are we doing here?"

Quinn ignored me, until she finally jumped up, turning to reveal what this treasure hunt had been all about. My eyebrow shot up, a look of confusion crossing my face. "What? Fabray, have you lost your marbles?"

She held in her left hand a pair of scissors, and in the right, a box of hair dye. It took me a moment to understand the implications, but I immediately pressed my lips together and frowned at her. "Okay, no. There is no way I'm going to cut my hair and bleach it so I'll fit in with all those sun-kissed bimbos down there. _Soy orgullosa de mí_-"

Quinn's face lit up in a broad grin, the biggest one I'd seen since – well, maybe since last spring, right before she had her baby. It made my heart melt a little in response, though my face was set with steely resolve.

"It's not for you, silly," She said, and then walked into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar in invitation.

"I've been wanting to cut my hair for a while." She studied herself in the mirror, brushing aside a few stray strands of honey that fell across her forehead. "And the dye, well – it was going to be a statement, kind of. Like 'here's the new Quinn, fuck off,'" Her lips pursed in amusement at her own bravado. "I never went through with it though." She fingered the shiny cardboard box, and I came up beside her, crinkling my brow as I noticed the color of the lettering. _Strawberry Shortcake. _

"Oh, no, _ella loca_," I said, immediately backing away from her. "No way I'm down with this. You can't dye your hair pink. I bet the staff would have a conniption."

Quinn grinned devilishly, a look I hadn't encountered on her before. I felt myself responding to the glint of mischief in her eyes, and I returned her smile.

"Let them." Quinn shrugged, and in one fluid movement stripped her t-shirt off. I gulped at the sight of Quinn in a lacy white bra, swallowing the gasp of shock that wanted to escape. I don't think she noticed my eyes widening – but then again, how would I know? Quinn was a closed book.

"You do the honors, Lopez," She said, handing me the scissors handle first. I stared down at them like they were an alien species with a tendency to bite without provocation. Quinn had sat down on the toilet and turned away from me, combing out her long hair with her fingers until it fell in one long wave down her back. I always envied Quinn her beautiful hair. Mine – well, it looks good, but it takes a lot of work to get it this way.

"Are you sure?" I stepped a bit closer, trying hard to peel my eyes away from the delicate curve of Quinn's waist, the chisel of her ribs against her creamy skin. There were no traces of the pregnancy left on her body, except maybe for the pale webbing of stretch marks along her abdomen.

Quinn just nodded, her posture ramrod straight on the porcelain toilet.

"Okay, Fabray," I said, sucking in a deep breath. "But if you end up looking like Ellen, don't blame me. I never claimed to be a professional." I picked up a lock of hair and experimentally snipped off over half of the length.

"I trust you." Quinn said, simply. It made my throat tighten and something in my chest squeeze. Resolutely, I began snipping at her hair in earnest.

**xxxxx**

I couldn't stop laughing, and neither could she. The bathroom looked like a beauty salon explosion, with tufts of wheaten hair everywhere, clothes piled in the floor, wet towels and the discarded hair dye kit scattered across the vanity. It smelled strongly like chemicals in the tight space, and my throat tickled from it.

"_Strawberry Shortcake_?" I said, musingly. "It looks more like _Pink Lemonade_." I smiled at Quinn over her shoulder in the vanity mirror.

"I actually really like it," Quinn said, tugging at the ends of her hair that now curved in right above her shoulders, framing her face. I had given her a tuft of bangs that settled neatly against her forehead. The pink only covered the top layer of her hair – who knew that girl had so dang _much_ of it? – and reminded me of what it looked like when me and Britt colored Britt's hair with highlighters in fifth grade. I grinned at the memory.

"Now all you need is a badass nose piercing and a trashy habit," I teased, lowering my eyebrows in a grin. Quinn smirked.

"Let's not get carried away, Lopez."

"What made you decide to go all rebel chic, anyway?" I asked, stepping away from her reflection and glancing around the bathroom. I had to distract myself from peering down at her flat stomach or the slight muscle tone that rippled beneath the golden skin of her arms, the gentle curve of her breast. I always knew Quinn was a pretty girl. We had spent summers at cheerleading camp together, sleep overs in our bedrooms, even spent time in the same dressing room at the mall. But it felt different now, somehow – now that it was just us, without the bubbly, perky buffer of Brittany to keep things light and casual.

Quinn just smiled. "Now you won't feel so.. out of place. We'll both be freaks."

My jaw dropped in instantaneous shock, but I quickly hid it by snapping my mouth closed and furrowing my eyebrows. "Q, you didn't have to do that." I was, for once, genuinely stunned at something Quinn Fabray said. It was like being splashed with cold water – or, rather, like being slammed by a full on slushie facial after a hot shower. I had to press my lips together to stop myself from looking like an idiot. I felt a sudden rush of warmth overtake my body, starting somewhere in my chest and then radiating out to my fingertips and toes, tingling along my skin.

"I know." Her voice was soft, and her eyes met mine in the mirror's reflection. "But we're friends, right?" It wasn't a question so much as a statement. I gave a slow nod. "Well, now we're in this thing together."

"For better or worse, Tinkerbell," I said, smiling softly. "You'll probably get suspended when they take one look at you."

Quinn began cleaning up the discarded hair dye kit, and then searched for some way to clean up the hair mess. "I highly doubt it," She sounded bemused. "My father definitely won't agree with my having pink hair, but there's nothing he likes more than snubbing his nose at authority. I think he'll appreciate the gesture." Her lips quirked upward, gently, though the smile didn't reach her eyes.

"I guess." I shrugged halfheartedly. I didn't know what else to do for Quinn. I know her family is a very sore subject for her. Last year, when her dad found out she was pregnant, he kicked Quinn out. Eventually Quinn's mom separated from him, and allowed Quinn to move back in after she had the baby. But Quinn kept in touch with her father, even though her parents were estranged. And I was guessing he was the one footing the bill for this high class, all female education.

I decided to put it out of my mind. Quinn didn't need me worrying about her parents – she did enough of that herself. Still, the gesture moved me: I didn't think Quinn had it in her to be so selfless. I knew that it was only a shallow attempt to help me feel more comfortable, but it worked, in a weird way. Now maybe she'd get more attention for being the crazy punk girl than I would for being the dark-skinned Latina. We'll see.

"Well, thank you," I said, quietly, biting on my lower lip. Quinn's eyes darted around to meet mine like I had started speaking in tongues or something. Her mutedly dazed expression revealed just how out of character the phrase was. It made me want to slap my defenses back up and growl out some snarky retort, but I struggled against the instinct and held back the slew of insults that begged to be released at her openly astonished appearance.

Slowly, she bent down to pick up a wad of hair, and then returned to the standing position before she responded. "You're welcome." Her words were guarded, as if she expected me at any minute to assault her verbally. If I wasn't so overcome with gratitude, I probably would have laughed. I enjoyed this response in people – it was the one I tried to foster in so many of my classmates. And until about twelve hours ago, I would have done a giddy little jig at being able to put Fabray on such an edge.

But I could feel things slowly shifting within me, feelings and emotions shoving around inside my chest, rearranging themselves to make room for Quinn Fabray. It was odd. I hadn't felt anything like this happen since.. well, _ever_. Brittany and I have been friends since before I can remember, so there was never any adjustment to be made. She was simply immune to the wrath that the rest of the world was the target of. Quinn, during freshman year, had been considered an ally for a while, so she only got what I call kid-gloves Snix. Then she got pregnant, and she dropped off my radar. Now, though.. hmm.

I shook it off, resolving to think about it later. "I guess we should probably get around to seeing where we pick up our Japanese business man fetishist uniforms."

**xxxx**

The school supply store was called the Wildcat Den. Its cheesiness made me want to barf. We're the Atherton Wildcats – so there was a fierce, but feminine, looking wildcat logo all over the school in purple and white. The store reminded me of one of those hospital gift shops, everything exorbitantly expensive and practically drowning in Atherton logos, wildcat paraphernalia, and only in the colors of white and purple. Gag me.

I bought five identical plaid skirts and two purple cardigans with white lettering, and two white ones with purple lettering. There was an option to buy a jacket but I opted out. I also added a stack of crisp longsleeved white shirts to my pile of clothing, with stockings and knee high socks. I was fiddling around with a display of key chains and bumper stickers when Quinn walked out of the dressing room and made a casual gesture to catch my eye.

Okay, so.. I think most everyone in this school looks like a preppy Barbie or a teenage Shirley Temple in these uniforms, but _whoa._ Quinn Fabray rocked it. I'm not sure how or why, but something about her in that chaste little outfit made my mouth water. I had to swallow my saliva and plaster on an approving smirk, trying hard to ignore the little flutter in my chest at the sight of her. Her hair, radically bright and clashing against the demure colors, gave her a distinctly punk-rocker look. She wore her white shirt untucked, with only three buttons in the middle fastened. The cardigan was folded over her arm, so she looked less like a drone than everyone else. Her eyebrow quirked at my expression, but she made no comment.

I didn't trust myself to speak, so I silently followed her to the checkout counter. The girl looked Quinn up and down, pressed her lips into a disapproving line, and rang us up without so much as a "have a nice day."

I chuckled as we left the shop, both of us – more or less – fitting in with the hive of girls who swarmed the school. My first impression that this was a place where rich white kids came together to be tutored into future senators, doctors, and lawyers was still very much in place. I checked my phone and noted that it was barely 9:30 in the a.m. We had the rest of the day to figure out this school.

"What's next, Q?" I asked, glancing down the corridors. The rest of the student body was arriving today, so there was a constant stream of older kids coming in the front, from around back, lugging suitcases and duffle backs up those winding stairs. I even caught glimpses of the elusive staff, all of them – it seemed to me – were older women with grave faces and gray hair pulled back into a strict bun. I wondered if there was _any_ testosterone to be had, and rolled my eyes. If I was actually a lesbian like Quinn accused me of being, this would be like some kind of paradise.

Quinn studied the wall of glass doors that were directly in front of the entrance, tilting her head quizzically. "Well, we need to pick up our schedules. My dad faxed them my transcript last week and he texted me this morning to tell me I have enough credits to be considered a junior." She rolled her eyes.

"Uh, well, yeah, you _are_ a junior." My tone was a little dubious.

"Here at Atherton they don't really go by how many years you're in school." Quinn said musingly. "They do it based on credits. You have the option to graduate early, if you don't fail," Her tone suggested that probably nobody ever did, "or stay on and get college credits as a senior."

"Hmmm." I let out a low hum. I've never failed a class, so probably I had enough credits to be considered a junior. My eyes widened. "Whoa, does that mean we could graduate this year?"

Quinn shrugged, smiled briefly, and then tugged me towards the frosted glass door that had REGISTRAR in white lettering. She pulled the door open and revealed a little office which both of us stepped into. The smell immediately reminded me of Principal Figgins' office back home – but the underlying spicy scent of curry was replaced by something flowery, maybe roses. A prim older woman sat behind a desk, huge glasses perched perilously on her face. A tiny golden chain connected the ear pieces together and dangled, blinking in the dim yellow light. She glanced up from her paperwork and let out a thick cough, as if the sight of us was somehow both startling and offensive. I tucked my lips into my mouth to repress my snicker.

"Hello," Quinn said chirpingly, her smile ingratiating. "My name is Quinn Fabray. This is Santana Lopez." She inclined her head to me and I nodded stiffly. "We're here to pick up our class schedules."

The woman coughed again, as if trying to clear her throat. She narrowed her eyes, first at Quinn's disheveled uniform and then at her glaringly pink hair, and rolled her eyes to examine me. I scowled right back at her, cocking an eyebrow defensively. I was wearing my uniform right – I think – but she still curled her lip in a disapproving sneer. "Do you have a—"

Quinn broke in. "Uh, any idea when they serve lunch?" Her tone was so warm and friendly it made me grimace. She put her palm against my forearm and squeezed briefly in warning, and I bit back the remarks that rolled around inside my head. My cheeks flushed with the effort.

"They start serving lunch at 11:30 sharp," The woman said, and then began shuffling through her filing cabinent, flipping through yellow manila envelopes. "Fabray, did you say?" She asked without looking up.

"That's right. Lucille Quinn Fabray."

I turned to stare at her, head slanted in question. Lucille? Really? Quinn rolled her eyes and flashed me a secretive grin. I just chuckled silently. Who knew there was so much to Quinn that nobody knew?

"And you?" The lady barked at me. My smile disappeared.

"Santana Lopez."

After a few more uncomfortable minutes of her sniffling and digging around inside of folders, she came up with two pieces of paper. She set them down carefully on the desk in front of her, refusing to hand them to Quinn or me. What, like something about us was contagious? Ugh. I turned and slapped my hand angrily against the glass door, pushing it open violently and stepping quickly out of the suffocating office. I doubt I would be able to smell roses again without thinking of the Lady Grim Reaper.

The schedule paper she gave me was on thick vellum paper, with the Atherton emblem punched in at the top in shiny lavender lettering. What, something as common as a student schedule had to have fancy paper? My thumb and forefinger ran over the corner of the sheet, wondering at the creamy texture, while Quinn walked up beside me.

"What classes do you have?" She asked, her green eyes scanning the sheet in front of her. I finally dropped my gaze to read my class list.

"Um, English III, world history, algebra II, and physics." I groaned inwardly. Physics? I had planned to take Biology II this year at McKinley – there was _no way_ I was going to pass physics. "And uh, choir, computer programming, and study hall." I shrugged. I glanced over the paper and found the entry for grade level: 11. Phew. I wasn't _abouts_ to go repeating any grades.

"That's almost identical to mine." Quinn flashed me a warm smile. "Except no computer programming. I'm taking health instead."

My eyebrow shot up. "Wanky."

**xxxx**

Turns out Atherton isn't that hard to navigate after all. At first appearance, it seems like a giant monolith of a school, but actually the layout makes perfect sense. The main building is where the cafeteria, auditorium, swimming pool, gymnasium, and administration offices are kept. To the left and right wings are the classrooms. The floors above the administration wing hold student housing and additional classrooms, along with student lounges, various libraries, computer rooms, game rooms and little snack bars. Quinn and I picked our way over the first floor, finding that our classrooms were mostly located on the third wing – with the sophomore student houses. Weird. Still, we had many of the same teachers, and we found out where those classrooms were and peeked our heads in. Then we traveled about, seeking out the classes we didn't have together. I tried to make a mental note of their location, but knew I would probably get lost. I wonder if this is how Brittany feels sometimes.

We stopped by a student-ran snack bar for lunch. I ordered a grilled chicken wrap and a diet Pepsi. Quinn got a ham and cheese panini, nacho flavored Doritos, and a Fruitopia. We sat together on a bench, amid potted plants, and watched the smaller congregation of girls swarm in and out of the little alcove. Large flat screen TVs were mounted on the walls on mute. I bit into my wrap and eyed Quinn as she noisily devoured her bag of chips.

"Fabray, did you get knocked up again?" I asked around a mouthful. She nearly choked and I laughed. "Just, you seem awfully hungry today."

Quinn scowled, taking a sip of her bottled drink. "Uh, no. I'm just done eating like a baby bird." She took a rueful bite of the hot sandwich. "Sue Sylvester isn't here to measure our waists anymore."

I nodded, but my eyebrows furrowed. I had been under the long-reaching whip of Coach Sylvester for so long, I had never ceased eating like she dictated. As a freshman I had gotten into the habit of limiting carbs, counting calories, and exercising daily. I always chose low-calorie options, avoided cheese and other dairy products like the plague, and refused all the sugary snacks Brittany had tucked inside her cheer jacket at all times. Brittany – one of those lucky girls who didn't have to work to keep thin. She could eat half a pizza and five king size Hershey's bars and end up weighing less than when she started.

Well, I shrugged, and finished my wrap. I almost never felt the hunger anymore that stayed present on the edges of my stomach. Old habits die hard. Quinn, noticing my silence, split off a hefty chunk of her panini and handed it to me wordlessly. I regarded it for a moment, noting the glisten of grease along the swiss cheese, before I scoffed. "Fuck it," I said quietly, and took the sandwich.

**xxxx**

We wandered around until midafternoon before we finally ventured towards the back of the campus, which opened into a sprawling paved courtyard. The flagstones were dotted with lush vegetation and picnic tables. There was a large group of girls gathered out here, sitting at the tables best shaded by the trees. Beyond the courtyard was a rose garden trimmed in with hedges. I could see a fountain shooting water up towards the sky in the distance, behind the shrubbery and flowers. Scanning the horizon, I could see a horse track to one side, as well as a soccer field. There was also an outdoor pool alongside the east of the complex.

"This place is incredible," Quinn whispered softly.

"It's something, all right," I muttered. She ignored me and tugged my hand, pulling me towards the group of girls. I stiffened. What was up with Q being all grabby lately? Not to mention I just wasn't in the mood to ingratiate myself with these chattering magpies. They all were perfectly groomed, glossy, and annoying. I figured that I'd make zero allies among the group of sunbathing blondes ahead of us.

Quinn surprised me though and instead of heading towards the group of girls, she went directly for the flower garden. We stepped beneath an arbor and were immediately surrounded by a pristine silence. It was like the thick hedges drowned out the outside world. The sun was making its slow descent into the west, casting long shadows. The smell was dazzling but a little overwhelming. There were flowers of all kinds here – none of which I could name. I just thought they were pretty. Quinn's face lit up like a kid on Christmas when she took in the full beauty of the place. I couldn't help but smile, too – it was contagious.

"It's so gorgeous." Quinn whispered, as if she was afraid her noise would damage the serenity of the place.

"It reminds me of the Secret Garden," I said, my tone matching hers. She didn't look at me, but began exploring the area slowly, taking in the sights.

I just watched her as she moved, tucking my hands in the pockets of my skirt. I sat down on a cement bench, my eyes trained on her figure. She stopped every so often, bending down to caress a flower petal or read the little plastic flag that told its name. I studied her, a little amazed at how she could be so composed and so fragile all at once. How is it possible to know someone for years and yet not truly know them?

Finally, as if slowly waking from a dream, Quinn turned to me, noticing for the first time that I wasn't with her. She smiled briefly when her eyes met mine, and then gestured with a closed palm. She was about a quarter of an acre away, too far away to speak to. Sitting in the afternoon sun had made me drowsy, but I slowly dragged myself up and began to make my way towards her.

"Look what I found!" She said excitedly, her eyes sparkling. I smiled back, suppressing a yawn. Flowers – so pretty, so boring. At least Quinn was happy. We hadn't even been here a full day yet and she'd cried so much.

She was pointing down to a waist-high shrub colored with large blooms. They were really pretty. The color was like a dusky pinkish orange surrounded by gold on the outside, in a spirally type of pattern. I instinctively rubbed my finger along one of the petals, marveling at the silky softness of it. "It's great, Q," I said, a little indifferently.

She was smiling softly at me, that enigmatic smile that I had no idea how to interpret. "Look at what it's _called,_" she said patiently, crouching down among the mulch. I settled my gaze on what she was aiming at, and then my eyebrows shot up.

"Whoa! That's amazeballs." I grinned big. The little plant tag read: _Santana Hibiscus._

"It's pretty ironic, actually," Her tone was a little teasing. "It fits your coloring perfectly." She then reached towards a mid-sized bloom and plucked it delicately from the shrub, securing the stem between her index finger and thumb.

Before I had time to react, she was turning towards me, and tucking the flower in my hair. I held my breath, stunned by her sudden closeness. Her face was suddenly _right there_, her breath tickling out from her slightly parted lips. Her eyes, that delicate shade of evergreen, were focused intently on what she was doing. I never noticed that she was slightly taller than me until now, and I had to angle my head ever so slightly to meet her eyes. Her hands were gentle, pushing aside my hair and patting it down on top of the delicate bud. When she was done, she continued standing there, casting her gaze into my eyes. I bit my lower lip, color abruptly flooding my face. I felt a light-headed fire erupt behind my heart and then torrent down my body, filling my stomach with tight knots and making my fingertips tremble. I didn't dare move, because I was afraid something might break this spell – _whatever_ it was.

We held that position for an awkward amount of time, before Quinn suddenly shifted and then directed her gaze back to the bush of hibiscus. I let out an explosive breath, allowing oxygen back into my lungs. I was dizzy. I had no idea why. I rubbed my cheeks nervously, trying to banish the sting of heat I felt lingering there. I darted my gaze towards Quinn's face, to see if she was blushing too. I couldn't really tell, the light was vanishing more rapidly now.

I didn't say anything, because I didn't know what to say. Sorry for acting so weird, Fabray, but you got in my space and I really wanted to kiss you? How bizarre.

She looked back at me again, her face carefully blank. "It looks perfect."

That caught me off guard. "What?"

She smiled gently. "The flower. In your hair."

I smiled and reached up to touch the bloom self-consciously. "Yeah?"

She nodded, and then glanced at the sky. "Guess we better be getting back. "

I walked back with her, staying a little behind her, trying to figure out what exactly just happened, and what it meant.

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who is reading, and taking the time to review!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** I really do appreciate the reviews. Isn't it a little funny how sometimes the things you write surprise yourself? I did that with this chapter. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 4

Our walk back towards the school was slow, and seemed to be growing slower with every passing moment. I had my hands tucked beneath my arm pits, my head angled down so I could stare at the browning grass and pebbles instead of the girl in front of me. My mind was slowly turning over and over the things that had just happened, the moments leading up to it and then, as if in fast-forward mode, replayed the entire day. Everything was different – just too weird. I actually saw myself and Quinn through a different eye, examining every moment we had had since I met her that day the summer before ninth grade.

Brittany and I had decided to go to the swimming pool. Back then I had a maid named Consuela that my mother made drive me everywhere. My mother is an accountant and she sometimes doesn't have time to do things like drive me over to a friend's house or go swimming with me. I had already begged Brittany to ask her mom, who agreed because Consuela would be there. I was excited. I was turning fourteen in just a few short weeks, so my mother said it was all right for me to wear a bikini. It was my first two piece swimsuit ever, and I thought I looked smokin' hot. Brittany was bouncing up and down excitedly in the backseat next to me, squealing. We smelled like sunblock and sweat.

We pulled into the local public swimming pool and burst out of the car, not bothering to wait for my maid. She was gathering up a beach basket full of snacks, drinks, and towels. We raced towards the pool edge and my whole body tensed, ready to jump in. It was a late summer day, one of the last really warm ones we would have before autumn sank its teeth in. My skin felt tight and itchy from the sunblock.

"Wait!" Brittany said, halting me in my purpose to plummet into the pool. I turned to glance at her, and she looked a little unsure. I recognized that look in her eyes, now – it was one that meant she thought she was about to say something stupid, and didn't want to. I bit my lip, and turned towards her, my hands gesturing as if to say, _just go ahead._

Britt looked at me quizzically and then pointed to the black etching along the poolside. **6ft.** I raised an eyebrow.

"That's the _deep end,_ Santana," Brittany whispered. She looked actually a little scared.

"Yeah, Britt, it's okay." I smiled reassuringly at her. "We're tall enough. We won't drown."

Brittany's eyes were huge azure pools, staring at me like maybe I had said something in a different language. I wracked my brain, trying to think of a way to make this situation okay for her. I didn't want to spend my time at the shallow end – there was nothing but puffy middle aged ladies with their toddlers down there, and a group of rambunctious little boys doing cannon balls in the area between. The deep end was practically deserted. My gaze snapped to Consuela, lugging all our swimming pool necessities through the gate and waddling over to a pool chair.

"I think.." I said quietly, then grabbed Brittany's hand and walked over towards Consuela. "_Tenemos todavía los juguetes_?" I gestured towards the big plastic basket.

"_Los juguetes_?" She asked. I just began rifling through the items, tossing out carefully folded beach towels and bags of chips. Finally I wrapped my hand around an inflatable plastic ring, smiling triumphantly at the puzzled adult. "_Juguetes de piscina!" _She just laughed and waved me on.

I spent the next few moments blowing up the pool ring – which really was for a younger child, but Brittany's stick-thin frame could fit through it.

"It's like a lifesaver ring," She said, poking my cheek while it was puffed out with air. I laughed.

"Yes, so it'll save your life if you try to drown." I grinned broadly at her.

"San_tana_," She said, putting the emphasis on the second half of my name just like my mom does. "I would never _try_ to drown. Just, sometimes those spooky mermaid things grab your feet and pull you under." Her eyes got huge again. I couldn't help but laugh at the seriousness of her face. We had read _Harry Potter_ last year in English, and she still had trouble when she thought too much about it.

"Well, you'll be safe from grabby mermaids. This will keep you floating, and I'll fight off anything that tries to get you." I handed the fully inflated ring to her, nodding decisively.

She smiled at me. We turned back to the pool and I was about to jump in when Brittany pointed silently. I glanced in the direction of her finger, and then blinked. There was a girl in a cotton candy pink bathing suit sitting on the edge of the pool, watching us. She had long blonde hair and huge dark sunglasses on. There was a weird smile quirked on the edges of her lips, and she cocked her head at my inquiring look.

"Do you have a staring problem, pipsqueak?" I said to her, defensively. I hate it when people stare at me. It always makes my hackles rise.

The girl just smiled bigger at that, then slowly removed her sunglasses. Her eyes were a shade I had never really seen before, and that threw me off. Usually people had blue eyes or brown eyes, like me and Britt. This girl had something like green eyes, or hazel eyes. Weird. I made a scrunchy face at her.

Instead of answering me, she turned to Brittany, and said, "I like your bathing suit."

Britt grinned broadly, tugging at the little frills that hung limp by her side. She was wearing a sunny lemon yellow bathing suit with white polka dots. I was the only one of the three of us in a two piece. It made me feel older than them, somehow, but also like I didn't fit in.

"Thanks. Do you wanna play Marco Polo?" She had the tube secured snugly around her middle, and before anyone could respond she leapt into the pool. The giant splash soaked the blonde and splattered me. I laughed despite myself. Brittany was just like that – so random, so open, so happy.

The girl grinned really big at me and I just shrugged. I slid into the pool with less enthusiasm and more grace than Brittany. By then Brittany was dog paddling over to her, and though I thought about offering a warning, I just pressed my lips together in a tight smile. Britt didn't say anything, just grabbed onto the girl's lower calves and yanked. She let out a surprised grasp before falling into the pool. Brittany was laughing like a lunatic and then turned towards me. I squealed and darted away from her, but I had no chance. With that floatation device, she could easily propel herself through the water faster than my frantic kicking could. Before long she had me around the shoulders and was bouncing against me, trying to throw me under. I eventually gave in, because I was inhaling and choking on more chlorine trying to stay upright than I would have if I just went under.

We spent the afternoon like that, the three of us tussling and rough housing. Random adults would yell and scold us, but Consuela only looked up on occasion to make sure we weren't drowning. After a few hours, we dragged ourselves out of the pool and laid flat against the hot cement. My body felt heavy and water logged. I was laying in the middle of the two blondes, and when I cast my glance towards Brittany I could tell she was going to have a wicked sunburn.

"Britt, did you put sunscreen on your face?" I asked. She blinked owlishly at me.

"Well, duh. I used my mom's." She picked at her shiny face, then grimaced. "It hurts."

I rolled my eyes, then made a mental note to be sure to personally apply Brittany's sunblock from now on. Her mother wasn't the most attentive adult I'd ever met.

Quinn, the girl who had been staring at us a few hours before, sat up on my other side and looked down at Brittany. Her eyebrows were furrowed. I twisted my mouth in a sneer, ready to punch her in the face if she said something about Britt being stupid or looking funny. But she didn't. Instead, she hoisted herself up and then sprinted towards a row of lawn chairs. After a few moments she came back, and handed Brittany a tube of green gel.

"What is this?" Britt asked, looking at it with concern. "It looks like that tube candy you get from Seven Eleven. Like, you just squirt it in your mouth—" She was popping the lid open and looked like she was about to take a giant swig.

"No!" Quinn said quickly, then snatched the bottle out of Britt's hand. My friend looked confused. She squirted some of the green gel onto her fingers and then rubbed it over Brittany's blossoming sunburn. Britt smiled widely at her. She liked it when other people weren't weird about personal space or touching.

"It's aloe vera gel. It'll keep your sunburn from cracking or peeling." Quinn explained quietly.

"It feels better." Brittany agreed.

I watched Quinn as she patiently slathered the sticky gel over Britt's face and shoulders. She talked to Brittany with a natural rhythm that almost nobody else had. I was too used to people our age staring at Britt like she was a duck with two heads, or yelling at boys who called her names or girls who were mean to her in a way that she didn't understand. I hated that the most – when other girls were sneaky-mean. Brittany usually thought they were being super nice, when really they were just trying to humiliate her. That's the main reason why I'm never sneaky-mean. I just say the mean things that I want to say, instead of trying to hide it.

After a while, I caught Quinn's gaze. "What school do you go to?"

She bit her lip. "I just moved here. I'm starting at McKinley in the fall. I don't know anyone."

Brittany brightened up at that. "Oh, that's _amazing!_ We're starting there too. Do you want to stay the night with us?"

I snapped my head back to Brittany, who was oblivious to my look. Quinn seemed a little surprised too, but the good kind of surprised. She smiled at Brittany as if she thought she was precious, like a baby or a puppy. "I'll ask my mom."

Quinn stood up and started back towards the other side of the pool. I turned to Brittany, my expression a little less than pleased. I mean – this Quinn girl, she was really weird. She was mega nice to Brittany, which I wasn't used to, but I didn't know how I felt about Britt inviting the girl to our slumber party. Plus, what if my mom didn't want somebody else over? I just shrugged. She probably wouldn't care if we stayed in my room or the den.

"Brittany," I said, my tone low and serious. She looked at me and widened her eyes a little bit. "We don't even know this girl. What if she's, like, a freak?"

Britt laughed as if that was the funniest thing she'd ever head. "No way. She's nice."

I couldn't decide if she was really nice or just hiding her sneaky-meanness. In the past, Britt and I had met a few girls we thought could be our friends, but in the end they always turned out sneaky-mean. Quinn walked back over to us, the sound of her bare feet slapping against the concrete. "She said yes," she told us, a little breathlessly.

I snatched my gaze up to the back of Quinn's head, studying the layer of pink hair that was being tossed around by a light breeze. We had spent the rest of that night in my bedroom, eating chocolate ice cream with marshmallows in it (Brittany's favorite) and watching Disney movies (also Brittany's choice). I had only had to get snappy with Quinn a few times, and she never reacted the way I thought she would. Plus, Brittany was always looking at me with that look, which meant _be nice, Santana._ So I tried. And it turned out okay. Quinn always seemed puzzled at the things I said that were bitchy, but she didn't return my venom. Instead she deflected, relying on Brittany to diffuse the tension.

I came to realize over the next few months, as we began to be a clique, that Quinn was really very good at that. Quinn was like the perfect balance of Brittany and I, but she was also totally opposite. Brittany could say very straight forward things to and about people, which could be considered mean (she was good at poking fun at Rachel Berry) but nobody ever got mad about it. I would say the most obvious thing in the world to and about people, and they either ran crying or wanted to fight me. Quinn had a balance of these two abilities: she could insult and demean people with the biggest smile on her face, and they weren't sure if she was serious or kidding. Until she wasn't – then it was big, big trouble. Because though my words can be vicious, they were passionate; Quinn's were icy and somehow very scary.

I decided, after the first month of school together, that I did like her. She was never mean to Brittany, and the dynamic between us was fun. We weren't ever as mean to each other as we were to other people, and we both agreed to never be mean to Brittany. It worked. We clicked.

The long walk back to Atherton was nearing an end before I finally quickened my pace to catch up, matching her stride. I looked at her curiously, trying to figure out what she was thinking. As usual, I was lost.

"Why were you staring at us?" I said into the silence between us. Quinn paused, stopping mid-stride to look at me. Her face wore a puzzled expression. I had to shake my head lightly, remembering that Quinn wasn't taking a walk down memory lane like I was. "That one summer, before we started McKinley. At the pool. You were staring at me and Brittany." I explained, hurriedly. Understanding dawned on her face. "Why were you watching us?"

Quinn's mouth quirked into a small smile, and she took a seat at one of the deserted picnic tables. Most of this area was vacant, now, all the girls having retreated from the purple dusk. The big windows illuminated the courtyard faintly. She took a minute to respond, and I just waited, standing beside her with my hands tucked into my armpits.

"I don't know. At first I thought Brittany was your little sister." Quinn smiled at the absurdity of it. "She looked younger than you, and you were wearing a bikini." I nodded. I remember. "She was scared to jump in the deep end. And I watched you struggle with trying to make it okay for her." Quinn's glance shimmied up my body and then locked with my own gaze. I repressed a shiver.

"Then I watched you blow up that floatie and explain to her about mermaids." There was laughter tinged in Quinn's voice, and her face softened with the memory. I felt my own expression mirror hers. "It was so sweet. I didn't know if she was –you know, special, or something." Quinn looked at me like she was afraid I was going to punch her. I wasn't. I knew Brittany came off that way at first to some people. "But mostly you just fascinated me. I could tell you were impatient to jump in the pool and start swimming, but you stopped everything to help her. I realized you weren't sisters, just best friends." Quinn reached up to bat a strand of hair out of her face. "I had never had a best friend before. I had just moved, and nobody from my old town even cared." Quinn shrugged, as if the pain of that, from so many years ago, had long lost its ability to affect her.

"Well, I thought you were kind of a snob, or a freak," I said, teasing, and sat down beside her. I was finally comfortable enough to be close to her again.

Quinn chuckled quietly. "Yeah, I didn't know what to think about you. First, here you are, super nice to your ditzy friend.. then you're a giant bitch to me." Her eyes widened, as if to say, _what the fuck?_ I just laughed. "Like, what did I ever do to you? But I didn't get mad, because I figured if you were so nice to Brittany, you were probably an okay person." She poked my side gently with one finger. "That was before I realized you have psychotic anger management problems."

I shrugged, smiling in self-humor. We sat in a comfortable silence for a while, listening to the crickets chirp and the nocturnal animals come alive around us. I could hear owls hooting, bugs buzzing, and the far-off howl of a coyote. I was facing away from the picnic table, leaning back, resting on my elbows. I didn't know what else to say. The tension from the flower garden was slowly ebbing away, and we both sat in that position for that time, quiet in our thoughts. For the first time in my life, I was _really_ thinking about Quinn Fabray, and the weird dynamic that enabled us to be friends – even when it seemed we really weren't.

This was totally out of character for me. I had to snap out of it. Why was I suddenly so damn worried about my relationship with Quinn? I pressed my lips together tightly, furrowing my brows. I always had the feeling Quinn regarded me as a kind of sidekick, but I never thought of myself as that way. She was really just an adornment, someone I could pick up or drop depending on the mood of the moment. Not like Brittany. Brittany was an extension of myself.

_It's probably because of what she did with her hair_, I thought, and shot a glance towards Quinn. It knocked me off my center of gravity, threw things out of whack for me. Not to mention I had spooned her while she cried and had to suppress lusty thoughts about her half-naked body. Oh, god. I never ever thought in a million years I'd have _those_ kinds of feelings about a girl except for Britt. And I wasn't even comfortable thinking about the feelings I had with my best friend, much less about the girl sitting next to me, my other semi-best-friend.

_I have to snap out of being so damn mushy or she'll never take me seriously again_, I thought ruefully. But part of me didn't want to continue to fight to keep Quinn away. I was tired – emotionally and mentally. I missed Brittany. I missed my house, my bed, and my mom. I even ached a little bit when I thought about the losers in glee club, and how I wouldn't be going to competitions with them this year, or be participating in Mr. Shue's stupid weekly lessons. I had really wanted to kick Rachel Berry's ass with some wicked Amy Winehouse solo this year. I don't ever really admit it, but singing is fun. And I'm good at it. I know it because sometimes, during group performances or during random solos I would get, everyone would stare at me. Kind of surprised. Except for Brittany, she was always grinning really big, which made me blush.

And no cheerleading, either, which is the other thing I know I'm very good at. I made myself be, because as cliché as it sounds, McKinley put a lot of stock in its cheerleaders – and Coach Sylvester was the winningest coach in the Midwest.

"What exactly are we going to _do_ this year?" I heard myself ask Quinn wonderingly. The blonde girl glanced at me, her eyes slightly glazed, as if she had been lost in her thoughts. She quirked an eyebrow in question.

"No glee club, no cheerleading, no chastity club, no.. _nothing._ And we LIVE where we go to school!" I made an impatient gesture towards the towering stone building behind us. It was sinking in how very lonely and secluded this was going to be for me – but maybe not Quinn, because I still sort of thought she'd find some way to dominate this place. I just wasn't interested in impressing a campus full of elitist females. Even that sort of surprised me.

I shook my head violently, trying to clear it of all the crazy thoughts bouncing around in my head. _Totally not like you, Lopez._ I'm never this introspective.

"We could try to make some friends." Quinn said with a bemused smirk. I just scowled at her. "They have a soccer team, and a track team I think. And I'm sure they have show choir."

I perked up at that a little bit, and then gave a slow nod. Without Rachel's insanity, maybe I could get a solo or something. "Well, what do you want to do now?" It was a warm Saturday night, and the last one before school started. Supposedly we were slotted for a Junior's Brunch tomorrow morning, in some place called Wynland Hall. Quinn had a paper map of the campus tucked away inside one of her duffle bags. I had been texting Brittany off and on all day, but her responses were usually slow and disjointed. Which didn't surprise me, really. I smiled a little, remembering I told her that I'd send her a letter.

"We could go somewhere.." Quinn said quietly, her face turned towards the meadow in front of us, shadows darkening the woods beyond.

I snapped my gaze to her. "_Go_ somewhere? What do you mean?"

Quinn's brows rose. "I drove my car. What, you didn't?"

My jaw dropped. "What! No, my dad wouldn't let me bring it." My brows knit, and then I jumped up as if the picnic table had scorched me. "Why didn't you say so, Goldilocks! We could sneak home to Lima and say bye to everybody."

Quinn had an expression on her face that said, plainly, she didn't agree with the idea. She hummed in her throat before slowly unfolding herself into a standing position. "Santana, I don't think we should. It's a four hour drive. When we got there, it would be really late.. and then we'd have to leave after like, an hour, to make it back in time for the brunch."

I felt restless, suddenly, with the option of getting out of here now presented. I was shifting on the balls of my feet, my hands clenching and unclenching subconsciously. Quinn was standing completely still, studying my face with a perplexed look. "I don't _give a shit_ about the brunch, Quinn," I said, with more venom than I had intended. "I really want to go home."

Quinn's questioning gaze softened when I said that, and in one movement, she was abruptly in my bubble, her arms snaking around my waist. I froze, completely caught off guard, my eyes flashing wide open. I stood stock still in her embrace, and just let her snug me closer, the palms of her hands pressing against the small of my back. My heart did a quick stutter in my chest and I held my breath, hoping she wouldn't notice how my skin went from being normal temperature to suddenly feeling like it was a furnace. I felt kind of foolish because my hands were hanging limply at my sides, but she didn't seem to care. She kept hugging me until I slowly relaxed and melted into her. I let out a quiet, shaky breath, and blinked back the glisten of tears I wasn't even aware that had been pooling in my eyes.

"Okay?" She asked in a quiet whisper, and I just nodded mutely. She inched backwards, slowly unwinding her arms from my middle, and smiled down at me. I had no idea what that smile meant. I was a little afraid to even think about it. She reached up and brushed a strand of my hair away from my forehead. "Tell you what," her voice was so quiet, I could feel the wind from her breath hot against my face and lips. I had to press them down firmly to stop them from trembling. "If you promise to come to brunch with me tomorrow, and to _every_ class _all week_ long, we'll go back to Lima this weekend, okay?"

I smiled at her despite the slow thudding my heart was doing in my chest. It was a compromise, and probably the best one I could ask for. "How did you know I planned on playing hooky?" I asked, teasing. She grinned wide at me, and stepped back, finally giving me the chance to suck in a deep breath and let it out in a huge whoosh.

"Oh, it wasn't that hard to guess." Quinn's face was a little stoic, but her tone was soft and playful. "Especially since I realized you're trying to make a break for it at the first opportunity."

I gave her a gentle smile, then reached out to squeeze her fingers in my own, just a quick little pressure, before I dropped my hand.

We finally made the last leg of the journey back inside Atherton, and for once I didn't look at all the other kids, their glossy blond hair and bright blue eyes and creamy complexions. I only had eyes for Quinn, who moseyed in front of me with a mixture of elaborate grace and stunning simplicity. I followed her as if she was some magnetizing force, drawing me along, and I was helpless to resist.

We made the ascent back into our dorm room, and once we were there, I immediately relaxed. Quinn walked quickly into the bathroom and shut the door, but softly, so it didn't click completely in the frame. I sighed, and reached down to pull the armless purple cardigan over my head. I then slapped my hand against my head, hoping I hadn't crushed my Santana Hibiscus. I hadn't. I carefully untwined it front my hair and laid it down on my desk next to my laptop. My fingers began to unbutton the white dress shirt underneath with swift, sure motions. With a quick glance back towards the bathroom door, I then shoved the straps of my bra down my shoulders and twisted it around on my midsection, so that the clasp was in front of me. I took it off and tossed it on my bed, then dug around inside my suitcase for a huge t-shirt, which I pulled on. As quickly as I could, I shoved off my shoes and stockings, then pulled my skirt down in a jerky movement. It felt a little frantic, but I was desperate to be dressed before Quinn came out of the bathroom.

No good. A movement or a subtle sound had me whipping around to stare at the doorframe of the bathroom, my face full of guilt, though I couldn't say why. Maybe because, after all these years of being comfortable around each other, I was a little embarrassed to change in front of Quinn? I couldn't put a finger on it, but I wanted more than anything to hide my hesitance from her. I didn't want it to hurt her feelings or something. She was simply leaning against the doorjamb, a pink toothbrush sticking out of her mouth. She had removed her makeup and was slowly brushing her teeth, but her head was cocked with the strangest expression etched in her features. I grunted, then casually reached down and slid a pair of soft cotton shorts on. My face pinked with mortification but I kept my head pointed at the floor so she couldn't see. Wordlessly, she turned around, and spat into the bathroom sink. I heard the water running for a long moment and I assumed she was washing her face.

I sat down on my bed and stared at my iPhone, blinking at the time. It was getting sort of late, edging in on 10. I pulled up Brittany's messages and reread them, trying to take my mind off of the tumultuous things that were running through it. Quinn stepped out of the bathroom and without so much as a glance my way began undressing. My eyes bugged out of my head and I shifted uncomfortably on top of the comforter, finally giving in and laying down, planting my eyes on the ceiling above me. I regarded the hooks that would hold a curtain bar and wondered, for the first time since I discovered that I'd be rooming with Quinn, if I should go ahead and buy one.

Her face peered down from above mine suddenly, and I gave a small start. She laughed, then nudged me with her knee, gesturing for me to scoot over. I did, and tried not to notice too much that all she changed into was a tight, form-fitting baby pink spaghetti strap tank and some boy shorts panties. She laid down beside me like it was the most natural thing she'd ever done and pulled out her own cell phone, flicking her thumb over the bright display and tapping occasionally into the onscreen keyboard.

We laid there like that for a while, not talking, just tapping on our phones and listening to the noises that drifted faintly in from the hallway. My eyes began to get drowsy, and I had to snap myself out of a light doze. I shifted, and Quinn looked down at me. Shrugging, I sat up, then crawled off my bed and walked into the bathroom.

I pulled my hair down out of the tight pony I'd had it in and brushed it out. I smeared toothpaste on my toothbrush and vigorously cleaned my teeth, trying to banish the swarm of feelings and thoughts that bombarded my foggy mind. I washed my face and then sighed, staring at myself in the mirror for a while. I turned around, clicked off the light, and stepped back into our dorm room.

It was completely dark, and I was a little disoriented. I slapped around for my cell phone, pressed the UNLOCK button, and the glow from the display revealed Quinn had shifted in my bed, her face towards the wall, beneath the blankets. I frowned at her back, and wondered if she was _really_ sleeping or just pretending. I snapped my head around to look at her bed, and wondered if I should sleep there, instead.

I was caught in a moment of indecision and I had no idea what to do. I wracked my brain, trying to decide if I should wake Quinn up, sleep in Quinn's bed, or just climb in next to her. I tried to remember what the regular me – the one who hadn't lost her damned mind and fallen into the twilight zone – would do, and I was still a little lost. I never had a sleep over with Quinn without Brittany, but when we all slept over, we piled on one bed like a litter of cozy puppies.

I jerked my shoulder up in a half shrug and then determined that if I was going to stop acting so weird about Quinn, then I had probably start now. I slowly padded over to my bed, then quietly crept in beside her, snaking my legs beneath the cool comforter and carefully placing my pillow between our bodies. I folded my arms and laid my head down on them instead, and closed my eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Sorry for the late update. I spent some time re-watching season 1 to acquaint myself with the Santana/Quinn dynamic before their junior year. Why didn't anyone tell me it was the celibacy club, not chastity club? :P Well hope y'all enjoy this.

Chapter 5

When I woke up, I was sprawled erratically on the bed, the sheets twisted around me and my pillow pushed up against the wall. The comforter was in a wad where Quinn's body had been, and the blonde was nowhere to be found. I raised my head and peered around the room groggily, slapping around on my desk for my cell phone. The time read 6:48 a.m., which was a little later than I usually slept. I yawned, stretched, and then realized with a jolt that I had to pee. _Really_ bad.

I jumped out of bed and stared crazily around for a moment, assessing the desperate situation I was in. I could hear the tinkling sound from the bathroom which meant Quinn was in there, showering. Also, the door was cracked and steam was escaping. I could smell the flowery scent of her shampoo. I did a little dance on the balls of my feet, pinching the inside of my arms. I bit my lip. There was no avoiding it - my bladder was screaming at me: _this is go time! Go go go go go go go!_

I rapped my knuckles against the doorjamb, then peeked my head in. "Quinn?"

"Yeah?" Her voice was a little startled, and I averted my gaze from the image that was distorted by the shower door.

"Uh, I gotta – I gotta pee!" I said it quickly, my hips jouncing up and down quickly. "Like right now! Sorry!" I didn't wait for her to respond before I lunged into the bathroom, ripped my shorts and underwear down, and smashed my bottom onto the open toilet seat. _Ahhh._

I was still half asleep and enjoying the unique pleasure of releasing pent up urine when I heard the shower door slide open. I whipped my head around to stare at Quinn, who had poked her head out. She was laughing, and I just stared at her with sleepy eyes. "What's so funny, Fabray?"

"Nothing," She said, still laughing, and closed the shower door. I scowled a little bit, finished up, and then stared at the bathroom sink. I frowned at it, as if this predicament was entirely its fault.

"I need to wash my hands." I said, not really to anyone in particular, but I hoped Quinn would hear. "Quinn?" I said it louder, holding the offending hand in front of me like it was diseased. "I have to wash my hands."

Quinn turned the shower off and the silence in the small room was abrupt and deafening. I quickly smashed the handle down on the hot water, then yelped when it scalded me, and jammed the cold on. I washed my hands furiously and quickly, the seconds of Quinn standing in the shower ticking by maniacally in my brain. I needed to get out of the bathroom before she—

Well, she was already sliding the door open, but I turned and fled before I could get a glimpse of her golden, naked, wet body. I was turning a deep red color but was grateful she couldn't see it. I was beginning to think that my pink-haired friend was doing all this _on purpose_ to torture me. I frowned speculatively at my bed, the blankets in complete disarray. I sat down at the desk and clicked on my phone, immediately checking my Facebook and Twitter. Social networking sites are like crack to me. I guess that's probably true of most teenagers.

_-Good morning Britt. Don't forget to get notebooks and pens today._

I sent the text, and then sighed, suddenly terribly homesick. The weekend before school starts is usually pretty epic. My family has a huge barbecue and I invite Brittany and her little sister and her parents, if they want to come. Quinn came last year with her older sister, too. Once I invited Puck, and I was thinking about letting Finn and Rachel come, but hadn't decided. After the barbecue, Puck would have a bonfire out on his uncle's property, and we'd all get wasted and either sleep in our cars or on the ground. Brittany and I kissed for the first time at one of those bonfires. I had lost my virginity to Puckerman at another. They're a Lima tradition, and I felt their absence sorely this morning.

Sundays before the first school Monday were for school clothes and school supplies shopping with Brittany and Quinn at the Lima mall. Usually I could talk my mom into giving me enough money to get my hair done and manicures for all three of us. It made me feel a little shabby and ignored, even though I don't really _need_ a haircut and my nails are perfectly groomed, as always. Britt loved going to the mall, and I wondered if she'd do it today anyway, without me. My heart clenched with a dull ache at the thought.

The problem of how Brittany was going to survive this year without me or Quinn was really pressing on my mind. I clicked through my contacts and then grimaced, my thumb hovering over the gigantic schnozz of Rachel Berry. With a resigned huff, I pulled up a blank text and pulled at my bottom lip with my teeth.

_-Ru Paul, it's Santana. I needs to ask a favor._

I waited a few moments, wondering if Yentil would text me back.

_-One who is requiring a favor of another generally does not insult that person, but I expect nothing less from you, Satan. What can I help you with?_

I rolled my eyes. How did she manage to be so simpering and superior all at once, even via text message?

_-You probably heard I got transferred. Quinn too. So you have to help Britt._

Another pause. _–How, precisely?_

I frowned, sensing Rachel's arrogance even in those few words. I wanted to smash her ugly Jewish nose in. _–Just help her study. Make sure she remembers to go to class. Keep her out of trouble._

_-I'll try._

I was a little shocked at that response. I was expecting a 'I don't have time for that, Santana' or 'Why would I even bother?' So I was prepared to bribe. I was prepared to threaten. I was not prepared for the immediate kindness from Rachel Berry.

_-Thanks._

That's all I could think to say. Well, it shouldn't surprise me _that_ much – people love Brittany. Even if she's kind of a bitch to Rachel, most everyone finds her lovable and easy going. I sighed, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. For now, Britt would have some help. It would have to be enough.

I glanced up when I heard Quinn enter the room, her bare feet making a soft slapping noise against the glossy hardwood floors. I turned around slowly, hoping she had put clothes on before she left the bathroom. She had. She was wearing the full Atherton attire today, royal purple cardigan over longsleeved white dress shirt, plaid skirt. She sat down to pull on her stockings. Her hair was still wet, and was a golden maroon color. I studied her for a moment, head tilted to the side. My hand played idly over the flower I had laid on my desk last night, fingernail picking at the stem.

Quinn seemed lost in thought, first pulling on one stocking, then another. She slowly straightened up, her eyes a little glassy.

"Earth to Quinn," I said softly, and smiled when her eyes snapped to my face. "Did you sleep well, Cinderella?"

Quinn's grin caught me off guard. It was wicked and knowing, and it caused a lump to immediately form in my throat. My teasing smile died and my cheeks began to heat up.

"I should ask you the same question," Quinn murmured, enigmatically. My eyebrows flew up.

"What exactly does that mean?"

"Oh, just.." She chuckled quietly to herself, stood up, and rifled through her bag, pulling out a hairbrush and a hair dryer. "You sure do _talk_ a lot in your sleep."

I scowled. "No way, Goldilocks."

Quinn made a little _hmm_ing noise in her throat, and was bent down near the head of her bed, plugging in the hair dryer. She had hung a full length mirror on the wall space between her bed and my desk. She quickly ran the brush through her hair, inclining her head to one side, probably trying to decide how to part her hair.

"Who ever would have thought Santana Lopez was a huge cuddler?" She said to her own reflection.

My eyeballs popped way open, and my jaw dropped, horrified. I was silent for a moment, the gears in my head creaking slowly. I looked over to my bed, and the pillow I had wedged between our bodies was smashed against the wall. "You're making it up." I said, my tone even.

Quinn smirked, slanted her gaze towards me, then clicked on the blow dryer.

I twisted my face into a scowl and then stood up, marching into the bathroom. I was sure to close the door completely behind me, but didn't bother locking it. What if she had to pee while I was showering? We needed to make some ground rules about things like that. If Quinn had locked the door this morning, I probably would've pissed myself. Not good.

I stripped and then stepped into the wet shower, turning the faucets on. I was relaxing beneath the warm spray before I realized I hadn't brought _anything_ in with me – no towel, no clothes, not even my shampoo and conditioner, or body wash, or razors. I slapped my hand to my face with an audible _smack_, and groaned. How embarrassing was this? Kill me.

I let a few moments pass before I finally slid the shower door open and hollered, "Quinn!"

I waited, and when she opened the door I tucked myself back behind the glass, aware that it was only minimally opaque. "What, Santana?" She asked, her voice echoing dimly in the room.

"Uh, can you bring me a towel? I have one in my blue suitcase. And, uh, my shampoo and conditioner? Same bag."

There was a moment of silence, where I assumed Quinn had left the bathroom. I was turned towards the wall when a sharp _knock_ made me jolt.

"Here," She said, opening the shower door herself and handing me the bottles of shampoo and conditioner. I nearly yelped from the shock of it, my hands – which were wet – fumbling for the items. I closed the door quickly, my heart beating super fast. "Thanks," I muttered, meekly.

I waited until I heard the door click shut before I laid my head against the tile of the shower, letting the water pour over me. I set the bottles on a ledge that was built into the wall and then just stood there, pressing my forehead against the tile, thinking. What _is wrong_ with me?

I let my mind wander while I bathed, soaping my body with a bit of Quinn's body wash. It smelled like lavender, a scent I had been associating with her for the last few years. She and Britt had signature smells, something I never caught on to. I changed my shampoo, body wash, lotion and perfume with the month. Keeping everything the same gets boring.

Once I finished showering, I reached out and plucked the folded towel from the toilet lid, and scrubbed the water from my face and body. I wrapped the towel around me, stepped into the foggy bathroom, and opened the door.

Quinn was sitting at her own desk, her laptop open. It put her back to the majority of the room, but I could clearly see the side of her face. Her lips were set in a subtle smile, though her eyes stayed forward. I debated on taking my clothes back into the bathroom to change into them, but I _hate_ getting dressed in a muggy bathroom. It always makes me feel sweaty and unclean, kinda like dressing in a sauna. My face was tight with irritation over it all; the whole thing with me _snuggling_ and _talking_ to Quinn in my sleep, me forgetting to get any toiletries before my shower, having to submit to Quinn seeing me naked.. most of all, annoyed that I even gave two shits to begin with. I mean, Quinn has seen me naked and in various stages of undress before.. more times than I could count. So why, why, _why_ do I suddenly care about her seeing me naked, or me seeing her?

I ripped my towel off with a ferocity I hadn't intended, and I quickly pulled on panties and snapped a bra into place. I was scowling at the Atherton uniform, ripping my limbs through various holes in the clothing. I was glaring at the cardigan as I shoved buttons through their opposing loops, my hair in a towel turban on top of my head.

I hadn't looked Quinn's way before now, but I did then, because I noticed she had turned in her chair to watch me. Her eyes were slightly widened, her mouth quirked in one of those _damnable_ looks that I had no idea how to read. It just made my sneer deepen. I reached up and ripped the towel off my head, my dark hair flying down in wet curls. With a huff, I smashed my cardigan over my head and then smoothed my hair back. "What?" I snapped at Quinn, who was still staring at me.

"Are you okay?" She asked, guardedly.

"Yeah! I'm fucking perfect!" I didn't mean to yell, but I was just so_ fucking_ peeved.

Quinn raised an eyebrow, and her nose curled into a look of anger. It was an expression I recognized – Quinn was getting prickly. "Well, who pissed in your Wheaties, Lopez?"

I really wanted to slap that smug, grumpy look off of Quinn's porcelain face. She looked fresh and well put together, her hair flat ironed, with the bangs clipped back on top of her head. She had put on a touch of makeup.

"Don't fucking push me, Fabray. I'm one second away from beating your ass," I spat, then turned and picked up my own hair brush and began to yank it through my hair.

"What the hell!" Quinn exploded, then pushed herself into a standing position and faced me. "Excuse me, but you're being unusually bitchy and for no damn reason!"

I saw red for a moment, and it took all my control not to _swing_ at her. I turned, brandishing my hair brush like it was a weapon. "I'm warning you, Quinn. I'm not in the mood."

Her eyes were examining me with a look of downright wonder, but not the good kind – the kind where you're seeing something which makes no sense to you. "Okay, you bipolar bitch. I'll try to remember not to be _nice_ to you first thing in the morning."

"Good! Fine! Just stop talking to me, period!" I swore, then gathered up my own blow dryer, flat iron, and makeup and stomped into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.

My eyes were glittering with anger as I fixed my hair for the day and applied make up. I could tell, now, in the quiet of the bathroom, that I had reacted poorly and inexplicably to Quinn. It made me more angry, but just because I was a little ashamed. Quinn really has been nothing but nice to me – she's pretty much the only reason I hadn't crawled the walls and disappeared into the woods surrounding Atherton by now.

By the time I was done primping and getting ready, my anger had cooled considerably and I was only just a bit irritated, and that was mostly with myself. _Stupid, stupid girl, Santana._ It was something my dad said to me sometimes, when I made the most obvious or blundering of mistakes. My face was pink, my lips set with resignation – I was going to have to apologize to her.

I opened the door and was relieved to find her still there, though she was reclining on her bed on top of the blankets. Her bed was neatly made, and her feet were crossed at the ankles. She was playing on her phone and didn't acknowledge me opening the door.

With a sigh, I approached her, my hands clasped in front of me because I was a little nervous. I didn't know how to do this – apologize. I almost never do.

I bit my lip and studied her for a moment, and without looking at me she simply raised an eyebrow, leaving her face blank. I gave in and sat down, then turned and laid down next to her. I was immediately more comfortable like this – I can't really say why; maybe just because we tended to communicate better lying next to each other. "I'm sorry, Quinn."

Her face pinched together, eyes narrowing as if that had been the last thing she expected me to say. She was playing Angry Birds on her phone. I smiled despite myself at that.

"You're such a nerd," I said without meaning to. She whipped her head around to stare at me, her mouth pressed into a thin line. I swallowed my own smile and returned her look of absolute seriousness.

"Okay, okay. Geeze. I _really am_ sorry, all right? I know I was a hag. Crucify me already," I said, flinging my arms upward in a supplicating gesture. Her face finally softened and smirked a little.

"I'll chalk it up to your psychotic anger management problem," She said flatly, turning back to the game she was playing.

"But really, Fabray? Angry Birds? Who are you, Artie?" I teased, arching an eyebrow.

"Tell me you don't have it on your phone," She said, her tone even, without looking at me. I tucked my head against my chest and blushed silently. "Thought so."

**Xxxx**

A few hours later, we were sitting at a very fancy-looking table with two other Atherton girls, also juniors. This place was an extravagant dining hall, or maybe a ballroom – it had purple velvet wall hangings with the Atherton logo in cloth-of-silver on each wall, and the small four-person tables were decked out in the finest table cloths, with pewter silverware and heavy plates. I tried hard not to stare at the vulgar expense of it all, but Quinn was absolutely at home among such finery. I was considered wealthy in comparison to most of our friends, but I always knew Quinn had more money than I did. I bet her family ate at places like this all the time.

The other two girls were named Joy and Hannah. Joy had dark auburn hair with dazzling green eyes and a face full of freckles. She had a little bit more pudge than most of the girls here – she stuck out, just like I did. I decided to be nice to her. Hannah had glossy blonde hair in a sleek bob that made her look more like a walking poster child for anorexia than most, and her joints were clearly visible. She was full of harsh angles and her face was drawn and pinched. She ignored Quinn, Joy, and I.

We chatted amiably enough – or, well, Quinn did, while I just ate. The waitress brought us fresh orange juice, muffins, bagels, and our choice of main course. I decided to live dangerously and order strawberry crepes – Quinn got Belgian waffles. I couldn't help but feel like I was breaking some kind of rule as I bit into the cream cheese filled pastry, but it was delicious anyway.

Joy was a chatterbug, full of insightful and helpful information about Atherton. Quinn was so natural of a conversationalist, I just watched her, a little fascinated. There was no way I would ever be able to ingratiate myself that way – not unless I was really trying, and had some kind of ulterior motive. Don't get me wrong; I know I'm good at manipulating people, and can usually accomplish just about anything I want by preying on people's weaknesses. Quinn didn't have to do that to be outgoing or liked; she was simply friendly and polite, and had the most intrigued expression whenever the other person spoke. She made them really believe she was interested in what they had to say.

"Who is your homeroom teacher?" Joy chirruped around a bite of sausage.

"Burkes, I think," Quinn replied. That elicited a delighted squeal from Joy.

"Oh, me too! She's great, you'll love her." Joy grinned.

"Who do you have, Santana?" Quinn asked me, one in the long line of attempts she'd made to engage me in this conversation. I snapped my gaze to her face and then darted back to Joy, lost for a moment. Hannah raised her eyebrows in a conceited sneer. I wanted to punch her bitchy little face in.

Quinn saw my expression darken and tapped me urgently on the shin. I narrowed my eyes at her. "Hmm, I think Mosley," I said, but I couldn't really remember.

"Professor Mosley is nice," Joy offered, but was a lot less excited about it than she was about her and Quinn having the same homeroom. I shrugged.

The brunch was winding down, and all of our dishes had been cleared away, when a plump woman stepped up to a podium situated at the head of the room. She had frizzy curly brown hair and too much makeup on. She wore a deep purple pants suit with a silver-encrusted flower pinned to the lapel of the jacket, and a small hat on top of her curls. She tapped the microphone once and the room fell silent.

"Welcome back to another _wonderful_ year at Atherton, girls!" She said with so much enthusiasm I had to roll my eyes. "I hope all of you had a great summer, and you're rested and ready to begin an exciting term with us!"

There was polite applause. Really? This place was unbelievable. If this lady had come to McKinley to make a speech, she would have got booed off the stage, and probably gotten things thrown at her. God, I miss that place.

"I just want to remind everyone that this is a _very_ important year for you.. all of you have the option of signing up for double classes this year, with the option of gaining your diploma. If that is something you are interested in, please make sure you see our Junior Dean, Mrs. Sanders, before the end of the first week of class."

She shuffled around a few papers she had stacked on the podium, and pulled on a pair of petite reading glasses. "Try outs for varsity track will be this Thursday at 4 p.m. sharp. Mrs. Holiday is holding auditions for The Vox on Wednesday, starting at 3. Please place your name on the signup sheet if you're interested. Those of you who want to rejoin the Equestrian Club need to make sure your parents have signed a permission slip." The woman cleared her throat and read on, droning on about the soccer team, the swimming team, the dance club, the jazz club..

Quinn had turned her face slightly and caught my eye when mentions about auditions were made. I shrugged indifferently; why not? Here, there was no stigma associated with that five letter word – _glee._ Here, we weren't social ladder climbing cheerleaders with a demented need to rise to the top. Here, there were no boys to impress or girls to dominate. I had intended to survive this school year and get back to Lima as quickly as possible, that's all. This stupid school didn't even have a football time, for Chrissakes.

The woman, one of the several vice principals, was named Mrs. Lawton. She was cheerful and enthusiastic, and everyone stood up abuzz with genuine interest in the things she had said. Quinn hooked her arm through Joy's as we stood and exited the dining hall, me trailing slightly behind her. She had her head tilted down slightly so she could better hear the shorter girl's words, and she laughed quietly at something she said.

_Quinn is so flawless,_ I thought, and then started at my own musing. No way! I jerked my head around guiltily, then calmed down when I realized it had just been something I thought about, instead of said. The crowd was dispersing around us, and Quinn was walking with Joy. I began to fall behind, until finally I disengaged myself from them and turned abruptly to head in the opposite direction. Quinn was probably going to spend the rest of the day schmoozing Joy, so that she had another friend here besides me. I didn't begrudge her for it. Kudos to Quinn, making friends. She wouldn't be able to survive without them, anyway. Even if at some point she hated Rachel, Quinn was still a lot like her – she needed attention to live.

I headed outside, because since it was just now nearing 12:30 the day was still pretty brisk. It had a touch of crispness in the air that heralded the coming fall, but the sun was bright and the sky was a cloudless blue. I made my way over to an abandoned picnic table and sat down, digging around in my purse for a pen. I had brought a notebook with me to the brunch, _just in case you need to take notes,_ Quinn advised. I hadn't, but I was glad I had it now – since it saved me a four-story climb back upstairs to get some paper.

I flipped the notebook open and then began writing on the blank page. It was supposed to be a letter to Brittany, and because of that I had meant to keep it to one page or so. But the words came tumbling out of my pen and before I knew it, it wasn't really a letter to Britt – more of a collection of thoughts and feelings. I reread the sheets once I realized what I was doing, and was completely astounded at what I had written.

I mean, how fucked up in the head am I? How am I going to address a letter to Brittany, the only girl in the world that I love more than myself, and tell her about how I might be developing – _something_ – for Quinn Fabray? I knew I would never send this to Britt, though she was the one person who I was dying to talk to about Tinkerbell.

I groaned, pressing the palms of my hands into my eyes, scrubbing my eyes harshly. _Shit!_ I jerked my hands away from my face and then stared in dismay at the smudge of makeup I found there. Wonderful. I bet I look like a raccoon now.

I grumbled, flipped to a clean sheet, and then began the letter to Brittany again.

Quinn's shadow fell across my page a few moments later, and I stalled my writing to glance up at her. She was silhouetted by the sun and was wearing a curious smile on her face. "Here you are. What are you doing?"

I shrugged, gesturing to the paper. "Writing Britt a letter. I told her we'd be like pen pals this year."

Quinn's smile broadened at that, and she sat down opposite me. "You really miss her, don't you?"

The honest interest in those words caught me off guard, and I just nodded, blinking hard. _Yes, I miss her, like I miss my own heart._

Quinn's expression changed, though I hadn't said anything – had I? Oh shit. My face fell and my mouth hung open. Crap, crap, had I said that out loud?

Quinn reached across the space between us and placed her hands over mine, as if sensing my immediate panic. "It's okay," she whispered, though there wasn't anyone around. "I get it, Santana. It's okay."

I sucked in a heavy, ragged breath, and then let it go, refusing to meet her eyes. I just tapped the pen against the paper, completely drawing a blank on what to write next.

"I don't know why you didn't tell me sooner," Quinn said a few moments later. I raised an eyebrow at her and pressed my face into a scowl.

"Whatever you're implying about us, Blondie, you're _dead wrong,_" I said, acid dripping from my words.

Quinn _hmm_ed deep in her throat again. "No. I really think I'm not. But I still l-love you," Her voice caught a little bit on the word 'love,' but she plowed past it. "And so will everyone else. It doesn't make me think anything different about you. You're still just Satan Lopez." She tried to grin at me.

My eyebrows were lowered and scrunched together, and my face was pinched and glaring. "There's nothing _different_ to think about, Quinn. At all. So just drop it."

She shrugged, but I knew by her expression that she wasn't going to forget about it. A few uncomfortable minutes passed between us before she shifted and tried to change the subject.

"So Joy is a nice person. She says she sings for the Vox group and that Ms. Holiday is a really nice lady." Quinn smiled, only a hint of mockery in her tone. "Everyone here is _really nice_ or _really great._"

I scoffed. "What, she didn't say anything about you looking like Pink with that hair of yours?" I was a little perturbed that no one had said anything to Quinn about it yet.

Quinn raised her brow. "No, actually, she says there's always a few people who dye their hair crazy. She says she wishes she had the courage to do it." Quinn shrugged.

I rolled my eyes. "So that little stunt didn't work according to plan," I said, dryly. I turned to the letter in front of me and then just began doodling, because I knew Britt would probably appreciate that more than my words.

Quinn was quiet for a moment, before she reached out again and laid her fingers atop my scribbling hand. I raised a brow and then met her gaze. She just held her fingers there for a moment, gave me a little squeeze, and pulled away. I shrugged. What the hell was going on with all of that?

"Do you want to do something fun today? Go swimming?" Quinn asked.

"No," I answered immediately. I had no desire to prance around in a two piece for other girls, who probably had memberships to gyms and tanning salons. I raised my gaze, glancing around the campus for a moment.

"We could go in the woods? Like, just walk around? It's creepy that we're never really alone here. It weirds me out." I hadn't even realized that until now, but it was sickeningly true. I'm an only child, and both my parents work overtime, so I'm more than used to being alone. At Atherton there's always somebody around you, even when you're in your dorm room there's a huge mass of girls surrounding you. So, so creepy.

Quinn lifted her face into a look that meant she was unsure, but I just smiled and hopped up. "C'mon, Goldilocks. It'll be fun. You can teach me about flowers and stuff," I offered her my hand, and she took it, standing up slowly.

"Santana, I know next to nothing about flowers," she said, musingly, while we walked towards the woods that edged in on all sides of the grass.

"That's okay. That's still more than I know."

**A/N: **I have a much more exciting chapter planned next, so bear with me.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** You guys are flattering me with these reviews. Thanks so much.

The reason I use x's instead of page breaks is because my word processor is possessed, and entering page breaks turns the document funky. And I'm too lazy to do edit it on the website. Sorry!

Also, I know that Glee usually covers a week of time in one episode, but for plots' sake I'm condensing a few episodes down into one week, to correspond with this.

Chapter 6

_Stupid, stupid girl, Santana._ I had been repeating my father's phrase of disdain over and over in my head for at least the last hour. Quinn and I were walking in silence, and the sun was skirting the western horizon, leaving the world bathed in the half-light of evening. The edges of everything were softer, and the hymn of nighttime was beginning. Quinn was eager to get out of the woods before full night fell, and I didn't blame her.

We had spent hours wandering around in the woods, talking about meaningless things. We had stumbled across a fox's den and spotted some kits, as well as a raccoon and an ugly opossum. I was worried about skunks, but Quinn just smiled and said she thought they were cute. Ew. I wondered if there were _real_ wildcats to be had out here, and she just shrugged, but I could tell the thought unsettled her.

When it was getting late, we decided to head back. The first mistake I made was not watching where I was going – I was searching the horizon for any hint of the towering Atherton building, to make sure we weren't lost. A second later my foot got tangled on something and I was crashing to the earth with a huge _oomph._ The shock slammed the air out of my body and had me freezing. The very next thing I noticed was that I had landed in something soft and squishy – not entirely comforting, given the current setting.

"Oh my god, Santana!" Quinn said, rushing to me. I used the back of my hand to wipe the thick, wet stuff off my face, and realized it was mud. It had a heavy earthy scent that reminded me of moss and trees. I was trying not to open my mouth, fingers clawing at the stuff to remove it from my face. Quinn had bent down but was careful not to step in the mud herself, and she was sporting a huge grin.

"What are you smiling at, Twink?" I asked, my lips covered in the gritty dirt. She just snickered. I raised an eyebrow, and then looked down at my hand, which was holding a fistful of mud. Before I even knew what was happening I was smashing my hand against her, smearing her perfect, pretty face with mud. I laughed and trailed my hand down her cardigan, leaving finger streaks over the purple sweater vest.

"You _did not,_" Quinn said, her voice dripping venom. It made me laugh harder, and I scooped up another handful of mud. Quinn was lightning quick, though, and she shoved her own hands into the mud puddle and scooped up a huge amount, dropping it directly on top of my head. _Plop._ I stood up as quickly as I could and chased her, rubbing the last handful I had into her hair and down her shoulders. I was laughing so hard it hurt to run, and I couldn't really see.

Quinn was laughing too, so I knew she wasn't mad. She made another attempt to round back to the mud puddle, but I body blocked her and grinned. "You look like the Creature from the Black Lagoon," I told her, because she did. Her face was covered in a thick layer of mud and it was caked to her clothes and hair as well.

She grinned. "You're one to talk. You look like a mud monster." I snickered at that. We were standing there, at a draw. I was between her and the mud pit, and she was facing me, her hands at her sides in readiness.

"What do you say.." I began in peace offering, "That we both call it even, and go back? It's getting dark."

Quinn puzzled over this for a moment, looking at me, the mud puddle, and then at the darkening sky. She huffed a little bit, and stepped down quickly in something that was dangerously like a pout. For some reason, that had me grinning at her.

"All right, Lopez. I'll let you off this once. But this isn't over," She said, pointing her finger at me accusingly.

Now we were making the long trek back to the school, and my mind was abuzz with the complications of the situation. Firstly, we were going to have to go inside where everyone would see us.. that pretty much sucked more than anything else I could imagine at the moment. Secondly, we were going to have to _try_ not to make a giant mess, something I doubt is even possible at this time. And lastly, we both were going to need showers, and that meant one of us was stuck standing in the middle of the room trying not to touch anything the whole time the other one bathed.

_Stupid, stupid girl, Santana,_ I thought again, and not for the last time.

We somehow made it inside without incident, and because some kind of production was being put on in the sophomore theater, the place was pretty deserted. A few curious faculty lifted their brows at us but didn't say anything, and with as much dignity as possible, Quinn and I made it up the stairs and into our dorm room.

"That wasn't too bad," Quinn remarked, and immediately began stripping her clothes off. After a momentary pause, I did the same thing, because my clothes were more badly caked in the dirt than hers were. The journey from the woods back to Atherton had taken almost an hour, so actually the mud had dried into a layer of hard dirt in most places. My face felt tight and gritty beneath it.

Quinn was already in the bathroom and had turned on the shower, which left me, of course, the idiot standing in the middle of the room in a bra and panties with mud caked all over. I sighed, resigned to it, since it technically _was_ my fault we were in this to begin with.

"Santana!" Quinn called, and I stepped into the bathroom which was only beginning to steam up.

"Just get in here with me," Quinn said, her words muffled by the glass barrier. My expression was at once one of shock and immediate embarrassment. How about _no?_

"No, Quinn, it's okay.. I'll wait." I prayed that my voice sounded casual, but all of the sudden my throat felt tight so I doubted it. Hopefully the muffled acoustics would make it sound normal.

She poked her head out of the shower door and rolled her eyes dramatically. She had already scrubbed the filth from her face. "Really? I promise not to look at your boobies, you little baby. Just get in here."

She was staring at me with what I thought might be a challenge in her eye. I gulped, fought down the nerves that knotted themselves tightly in my middle, and then faced away from her. I daintily unsnapped my bra and then slid my underwear down, and turned towards her and snaked into the shower stall with her.

It was a tight fit, but I think I was mostly concerned with the fact that all the oxygen had left the room and I was trying hard not to gasp. Quinn was facing towards me, her head underneath the shower spray, as she washed out the suds of her shampoo. Her eyes were closed – I was grateful, because mine were huge, and my mouth was parted in a dazed stare. I bit my lower lip and stood there, awkwardly, fighting to remain calm. I had never really noticed Quinn's body before now, but she was absolutely perfect, one of those petite but athletic models with a dainty pixie face. It wasn't fair – she had no idea what she was doing to me. I twisted my head to the side when she got done rinsing her hair, and just grunted when she motioned for me to take her place underneath the spray.

With something to do, I was less awkward, but no less distracted. Quinn had applied conditioner to her short pinkish blonde hair and was now squirting a liberal amount of body wash to a bright green pouf, kneading it beneath her palms to create suds. She then began washing her body, rubbing the loofa over every inch of her tanned skin. I made sure to work my fingers through my hair, working out the clumps of matted dirt that had been squished there. The water that drained from my body was an icky brown color.

I reached up and poured shampoo into my palm, scrubbed it through my hair, and rinsed, the whole time watching Quinn. She was bent down in front of me, rubbing the soap over her toes. _Damn._ I bit my lip as a herd of stampeding rhinos trampled around inside my gut, twisting it into knots. I felt my center clench and tense, and I had to repress a tremble.

"What?" Quinn asked, peeking her head over her shoulder. My eyes got wide and I gulped.

"Huh?"

"Did you say something, Santana?"

"Umm.. no." I turned away from her to hide the crimson that flooded my face, tilting it up towards the shower head and letting the water fall without direction. I wanted to drown myself. Quinn was on to something with that conversation she had with me earlier, and the one we had the other night, about me and Brittany. She _has _to know that I'm less than straight, and that I at least make out with Brittany. She's going to think I'm a raging lesbian and all I want to do is ogle her goodies. I had to stop myself from slapping my face again with the shame of it.

Quinn just chuckled, turned around, and continued soaping. Without her intense gaze on me, I felt a little more relaxed, though not by much. I waited patiently for her to be ready to switch positions again, since soaping underneath a relentless shower spray is a bit counterproductive.

When she was, I had to suck in a breath to squeeze past her without grazing her slick, warm skin. Her elbow glanced against my stomach and left a smear of soap, and ignited a trail of fire on my midsection. I felt dizzy and weak, overcome with desire and confusion and a mounting urge to slam her up against the wall and kiss her. _Get a grip, Lopez,_ I clenched my teeth and smeared conditioner over my hair, before I began soaping my body with Quinn's body wash.

I was turned away from her and crouching down, scrubbing intensely at the mud caked on my lower calves and knees, when I felt Quinn's hand reach down and massage the area of my left thigh right below my butt. I yelped and jumped away from her, slamming into the shower wall, knocking my head painfully against the ceramic.

"Shit, Santana!" Quinn said, concern coloring her words. She reached down to hold my forearms, helping me to steady myself. "Are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah!" I was looking at her with wild eyes, and my face was absolutely burning.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Quinn's brows were drawn together and she seemed genuinely confused and worried about me. My heart was pounding so loudly I couldn't really hear her, but I stared at her lips make the words anyway. "You have a huge smear of mud back there, and I didn't know if you'd get it."

"Hmm. Okay. Thanks." I didn't know what else to say. My forehead throbbed where I'd whacked it against the tile.

"Are you sure you're okay..?" She asked the question like we were someplace ordinary, not standing two inches away from each other _butt naked_, me half covered in soap and dirt, her sparkling clean and dripping water. I had to force to keep my eyes glued to her face, instead of giving in to the urge to wander down her frame.

"Yes." I said it more forcefully now, and began to scrub the loofa over my body again, making sure to clean the area Quinn had tried to get for me earlier. In a few moments I was pretty sure that I was clean, so we swapped places again, and I began rinsing off.

I figured Quinn would get out of the shower now, since she was done, but she just kept standing there. It made me feel hot and light headed all at once, because whenever I peeked at her, I could tell she was staring at me. But she wasn't nervous or awkward like I was, just.. calculating. Like she was adding up something in her head and was trying to figure out the answer.

_Shit, crap, damn, shit,_ I said a little mantra in my head, because I could virtually see the wheels working in Quinn's head, and it would only take a few more moments of processing before she came to a certain conclusion.

"What are you looking at, Fabray? Like what you see?" I gave her a lascivious smirk and was pleased by the sudden shock that overcame her face. Her mouth dropped open into a little _oh._

"Excuse me?" Quinn sounded scandalized. "You're the one.. who.." She stammered over the sentence and I could tell she was getting uncomfortable, because her face pinked.

"Well, all I know is, _you're_ the one getting handsy in the shower, Blondie," I said, casually, and turned away from her to finish rinsing my body off. Without another word Quinn slid the shower door open and then hopped out, closing it behind her. I smirked at her retreating body, feeling a little flood of satisfaction at the victory. _Two can play this game, Tink, _I thought.

When I got out of the shower, wrapped in a warm towel, Quinn was in a night shirt and was resolutely cleaning up the smears of mud from the hardwood floor that we tracked in. She was working furiously and didn't glance up at me when I came into the room. I decided it might be wise to stay silent, so I dressed as quickly as possible and climbed on top of my bed.

After a few moments, the silence grew thick between us, and when Quinn stopped cleaning, she stood above me and stared down at me. I cocked my head and lifted an eyebrow in question.

"I had fun today," She said, after a long pause. I nodded, not sure how to respond. "I think we're going to be okay here."

"Maybe." I wasn't too sure. I still ached for Lima, and McKinley, and Brittany, with a ferocity. But I had to admit that Quinn did make being here better. Tomorrow was the first day of class, and I felt more ready for it than I would have been without her presence.

We climbed into opposite beds and clicked the lights off. It took me less than ten minutes to fall asleep.

**Xxxxxxxxxx**

I started at the sound of sobbing in the darkness, my head jerking off the pillow beneath me. I could hear Quinn on the opposite bed, muffled cries exploding from her figure. Groggily, I reached for my cell, clicked the UNLOCK button, and shined the light towards her. Her eyes were closed, but the little noises that came from her were absolutely terrified, and full of grief.

I stumbled out of bed and walked quickly over to her, leaning down to push gently on her shoulder. "Quinn," I whispered, shaking her. "Quinn!" I said it more urgently, but was still gentle, because I didn't want to startle her.

"You're having a nightmare," I whispered, pushing the matted hair away from her face. Her eyes snapped open and they were wild with fear and sorrow, unshed tears glimmering in the darkness. Wordlessly, I bumped her with my knee, so that she would scoot over and I could lie down next to her.

It was warm beneath her blankets, and it smelled like Quinn and sleep. I was immediately drowsy, but pushed it aside, because the girl next to me was fighting back tears. "Are you okay? Do you remember what you were dreaming about?" My hands stroked down her arm gently, the other caressing her hair. I was lying with my head on my arm, turned towards her, while she faced the ceiling.

"Oh god," Her voice was thick with tears and breathy. I gave her a reassuring squeeze, nuzzling my face into her shoulder, fighting to keep my eyes awake.

"It was about Beth," She said quietly, and my eyes snapped open. I nodded, continuing the soothing circles I was rubbing on her arm.

"It always starts out that I'm holding her, and she falls asleep, so I put her down in her crib.." Quinn's voice choked, strangling on a sob that she tried to force back. My heart was splintering from the sound, and I wanted to hold her, and make her feel better. My free arm snaked beneath her and drew her close to me, resting my cheek against her head.

"Then I leave the room, and as soon as I do, the door shuts. I hear her start to cry. I turn around and the door disappears, and I'm running through the house, trying to find her. I can hear her screaming, and she's so scared and alone." Quinn's face contorted in a mask of pain, and the tears began falling in earnest. I just held her, and she finally gave in, turning her body towards me and releasing the pent up tears. I held her tightly against me, my hands rubbing her back and smoothing her hair as best I could.

It felt weird to hold Quinn like this, her face pressed against my neck and shoulder, her tears wetting my clothes. Her body felt small and fragile, but warm and cuddly too. Her frame shook with sobs and the sound is loud in the quiet room. I started humming in my throat, a little nonsense tune that I use sometimes to calm Brittany down if she's freaking out.

It takes a while, but Quinn starts to settle down. She's sniffling thickly, and she scoots her hands up to wipe the tears away from her face.

"I'm such a mess," She said quietly into the darkness.

"No, you're a mother who misses her child," I told her.

Quinn laughed, but it sounded broken. "I gave my baby away."

I pulled away from her to look down at her, trying to meet her eyes. But I couldn't, because it was dark, and she refused to look at me. I sighed. I had nothing to offer her – I had never faced an issue bigger than what outfit to wear to which social function. Quinn had made the biggest decision in her life by choosing to have a baby and give it up for adoption.

"You did the right thing, Quinn," I told her, but it fell flat, because even I knew that platitude was overdone.

Quinn remained silent, then let out an uneven breath. "Well, thanks again for coming to my rescue."

I nodded, shifting away from her. I took her words as a dismissal and I was on my way back towards my bed when she lunged out and caught my wrist, stopping me.

"Please," She sounded so quiet and frail. I turned back and sat down. "Please. It helps with the nightmares, if you stay," She whispered, so softly I barely heard her.

I simply lied back down, snuggling deeper into her plushy pillows and blankets. I lifted my arm for her and she rolled into me, nestling her face against my chest. I wrapped my arms around her and fell asleep like that, with Quinn's body pressed close against mine.

**Xxxxx**

I sat to the left of Quinn in the auditorium, third row back. The place was huge and grand, and reminded me of a professional theater. It was where auditions for The Vox were taking place. Quinn and I had decided after school on Monday to try out. Why not? We had nothing better to do.

Joy was sitting to Quinn's right. I was used to the bubbly girl's personality by now, though she was a little lacking in the head. I tolerated her because Quinn liked her. It was only Wednesday, but I had found a rhythm at this school. I kept to myself in the classes I had without Quinn, and the ones we had together we were inseparable. Quinn had mused briefly about joining track, but since I didn't want to, she didn't either. Vox would be enough for me.

"That's Ms. Holiday," Quinn whispered, when a willowy blond took place center stage. She spoke into a little microphone.

"Hola, chicas! Are y'all ready for another spectacular year?" She had long, thin blond hair and bright eyes, but didn't rub me the wrong way that most people do. I liked her. Maybe it was her smirk, because she seemed to be laughing at something only she thought was funny.

Ms. Holiday was Quinn's health teacher, and apparently one of the favorites of the students, because of her unorthodox teaching methods and her blithe honesty. It got her in trouble with some of the more uppity girls, and generally the staff disliked her, but she had enough fans – and enough trophies from heading the Vox – that Atherton kept her on every year.

"Today we're going to listen to everyone audition, and this time next week you'll get a notice in your student e-mail letting you know where the club meets, if you pass." She smiled at the group of girls, who numbered about twenty in all, including Quinn and I.

The first girl up was clearly of Italian descent, though she gave in to peer pressure and had highlighted her naturally brown hair blonde. She had a beak to rival Berry's and large brown eyes. She swaggered up to the stage and stood in front of the microphone. "I'm Sugar Motta, and I'm going to rock your world."

The next five minutes were sheer torture, because she sounded like a cat getting its temperature taken. She tried, horribly, to sing Cher's "Just Like Jesse James," but my ears were bleeding. Ms. Holiday cut her off. "Thanks, Sugar! Nice to have you back again!"

Sugar bowed and left the stage. I scowled. "Really? _She_ gets in?"

Joy overheard me and leaned over, "Yeah, because her father pays for all the expenses relating to the Vox. Transportation, clothing, choreography.."

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. _Perfect._

It was my turn before Quinn or Joy's, so I hopped up and approached the stage. I handed Ms. Holiday the CD with the background music and vocals of the song I picked out. "I'll be singing Lady Gaga's 'Edge of Glory," I said, without preamble.

When I was done, I could tell Ms. Holiday was a little less bored than she had been before. I smiled at that, nodded my head in a bow, and left. I gave Quinn a high five as she passed me.

"This is Natalie Imbruglia's, 'Torn," Quinn announced, and held onto the microphone.

The music swelled and I sat down, watching Quinn.

It started quiet, which suited Quinn's voice perfectly. It wasn't a song I was really familiar with, so I had to pay more attention than I was used to.

"_I thought I saw a man brought to life_," Quinn crooned. "_He was warm, he came around like was dignified. He showed me what it was to cry_!"

I was a little mesmerized, coughed up in Quinn's song.

_ "My conversation has run dry.. that's what's going on; nothing's fine, I'm torn._

_ I'm all out of faith, this is how I feel_

_ I'm cold and I am shamed, lying naked on the floor._

_ Illusion never changed, into something real_

_ I'm wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn."_

Quinn was standing in one place, refusing to give in to the nervous urge to sway on the stage or at least walk around, something I gave her kudos for. I knew how awful it felt to be pinned to one place by a spotlight, unable to dance or distract the audience from your voice. But Quinn didn't need anyone to be distracted – she sounded beautiful. Not to mention the song seemed to fit her perfectly, and my heart swelled and ached a little bit as I heard the words.

_"You're a little late, I'm already torn.."_ She finished, then placed the microphone back on its stand, and stepped off the stage. I clapped. I was the only one, but I stood and clapped for her.

I felt bad for Joy, who had to follow Quinn's performance. I wouldn't want to do that. Quinn had so much emotion in her song and on her face. She came and sat next to me, and I took her fingers in my palm and gave them a little squeeze. She was trembling, but relief flooded her face when she turned to smile at me.

When we left the auditorium it was after 5 and getting close to dinner time. I was headed towards the dining hall with Quinn and Joy when I felt my phone buzzing.

"Hey, Britt," I said, hanging back from the other girls. I just motioned for them to head on, and started towards the dorm room. I hadn't talked to her all week and I figured we'd have a lot to go over, and it's rude to sit on the phone around other people.

"Guess what!" Brittany said excitedly. I repressed a smile, climbing the stairs as quickly as I could.

"What?"

"I went to the dentist yesterday," Britt hummed into the phone.

"Oh yeah?" That surprised me. Brittany _hated_ dentists. She thought they were like alien spaceships, and was terrified somebody would pull all her teeth out.

"He said I had cavities. And I had the _best_ dream about Britney Spears. I touched a snake." Brittany babbled. I smiled into the phone, letting her continue on with her whimsical account of how Mr. Shue let the Glee club do a Britney Spears assembly for homecoming, and how Rachel had transferred to be in the same English class with her, and Tina was helping her with geometry, and Mike had offered to tutor her in history. It flooded me with warmth to realize that Brittany had such a large group of people looking out for her, dedicated to making sure she passed this year.

"And now we're doing duets," Brittany continued. I kicked the door open to my dorm, then shut it with a backwards nudge of my foot. I flopped down on my bed and made noncommittal noises at her.

"If you were here I'd do a duet with you," Brittany whispered, and the smile lit my face.

"I know, Britt. I'm sorry. Quinn and I tried out for the glee club here today."

"I bet you'll both get in!" Brittany was so enthusiastic, sometimes my face hurt from smiling so much.

"Since you aren't here, I'm doing a duet with Artie." Brittany's tone was a little hesitant, and it made me perk up a tad.

"Yeah? Artie? Why?"

"Because.. well, because nobody else wants to do one with me," Britt mumbled. I creased my brow. "But, that's not what I wanted to tell you. I sorta slept with him."

I nodded, slowly, though I knew Britt couldn't see my face. It was the usual response I gave whenever Britt told me she slept with somebody else. "Wow, who knew Wheels had it in him," I muttered, just to fill the silence.

Brittany laughed. "Santana, don't be mean." I could tell by her tone she wanted to say more.

"Just spit it out, Britt," I snapped, then immediately berated myself for my tone. I could sense Brittany recoil from it. "I'm sorry." Here I was, apologizing again. But I didn't feel bad about doing it to Brittany. She never deserved me being mean to her. "What else?"

"Uh.. well, he, um, we're.." Brittany mumbled for a moment, then just said it: "We're dating now."

I felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice on my head, and I simply froze. My breath hitched and I let it go with a soundless wheeze, before I slowly closed my eyes. "Oh. Okay. Well.. that's.. okay."

Britt was quiet for a moment. "Are you sure? It's okay?"

I had to swallow a few times before I could answer. "Yeah, Britt. It's okay. What else did you expect?" _What else did __**I**__ expect?_ Not that Brittany would wait for me, not that.. not that we would even be together right now, if I was at McKinley. I felt my heart tremble in my chest, but I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing it to stop. Stop, stop, stop.

"If you say so, Santana," Brittany murmured, a phrase she'd been using to agree with me since we were little.

"I do." My tone was clipped, but not sharp. "I have to go now, Britt. I mailed you a letter yesterday. I bet you'll get it tomorrow."

"Okay, Santana. I love you."

Oh, god. My face flinched when Brittany said those words, but I made myself stay steady for a second longer. "I love you, too." Click. I dropped my phone listlessly onto the bed beside me.

I felt like the earth was crumbling beneath me and I was going to fall into a giant crack and disappear. I felt like crying and screaming and beating in Artie's smug little face in until he couldn't see. I felt confused because, why does it even matter? But it does. I know that, deep in my heart, it definitely matters. It matters to Brittany, too, or she wouldn't have.. she would have.. I don't know. And as much as I try to tell myself that it really _does not_ matter, I know that it does.

The tears were leaking down my cheeks in silent, hot rivulets before I even knew what was happening. Shit. I pounded my fist into my pillow, but it didn't help. The room felt like it was suffocating me and I was going to drown on my own sorrow, or go crazy from claustrophobia.

I jerked myself up quickly, pushing at the tears with the back of my fists angrily. I searched the room for some kind of escape, but I knew I couldn't leave – dinner was ending, and a flood of girls would be headed back to their dorms. _Fuck, Quinn!_ I felt a knot of panic in my stomach when I thought about Quinn finding me like this. The kind of questions she'd ask. I knew I couldn't answer them, not out loud, not to _her._

I stumbled against my desk chair, which forced the desk to roll forward and tap lightly against the window sill. I whipped around and stared at the big window that lit the room. It was dome shaped and had iron-framed panes, and it cranked open. I grabbed my little computer desk and drug it away from the window just far enough to permit me to squeeze between it and the wall. I cranked the window open, then stuck the top half of my body out. I swallowed the immediate vertigo that clutched my gut at the four-story drop beneath me, and then just turned my face to eye the roof speculatively.

I hoisted myself out of the window, and grabbed onto an iron trellis that ran right beside it, thick with ivy and little white flowers. My hands slipped against the slick greenery, but I was fast, like a lizard darting over a rock. I didn't have enough time to stumble or fall. In a few moments I was perched on the roof, tucked into a crevice between where the roof dipped and arched again.

It was a chilly evening, not really cold but definitely not balmy. The sun was only an orange outline on the western horizon, the moon a pale crescent in the far east. I could see stars and the treetops stretching out into infinity.

For the first time since I came to Atherton, I felt alone, and a little at peace. I knew that the trembling, squeezing feeling in my heart would eventually win out, and I would probably cry. But right now, I just sucked in one even breath after another, and forced my eyes to stay open, and look out over the fields and the campus, and even further out, to the tiny lights that dotted along the highway.

I was in a kind of trance when I heard the dorm room door slam shut, and Quinn march in. I froze, hoping against hope she wouldn't find me here. This was my safe place, and my heart simply wasn't in the right position to deal with Quinn now. She was another can of worms – she was digging into me, making me feel things I didn't want to. And this thing with Brittany, it was just all too confusing. I felt like a huge fool, and like an idiot.

"Santana?" Quinn's voice was muffled and faint. I bet it takes her five seconds to figure out where I am. I just squeezed my eyes shut against the inevitability of it.

Sure enough, she was poking her head out the window, staring at the ground. I imagined she had a horrorstruck expression on her face, and it was too dark to see the ground. I had to suppress a wry chuckle.

"Santana! Oh my god, _Santana!"_ Quinn was screaming, literally screaming. That made me swallow my laughter, and I poked my head over the ledge of the roof.

"Keep it down, Blondie," I hissed, my tone quiet. She snapped her head up to me and she had a look that was a mixture of fury and relief etched on her face.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing, Lopez?" Her tone was enraged. I smiled despite myself.

"Aw, I never knew you cared," I said, sardonically. I picked up a pebble and tossed it down at her, teasingly.

"Come down here this instant, Santana," Quinn's tone brooked no argument. I just quirked a brow at her.

"Or what? You'll ground me?" I shrugged indifferently and then leaned back against the shingles.

A few minutes passed and I assumed she had given up and retreated back into the dorm room. I began to relax, staring up at the sky, which began to turn a velvety purple color. More and more stars winked out.

I let out a muffled scream when I felt a hand wrap around my foot and lock onto my ankle. It took everything in me not to kick at it, but I calmed myself enough to realize it was just Quinn. The blonde had changed into jogging pants and a t-shirt, and had climbed out after me. Her face was a little flushed and out of breath, her eyes glittering with anger, her lips a dark red. I reached down and grabbed her hand to help her over the last edge.

"I didn't think you had the guts, Fabray."

She glared at me, pressing her back against the roof shingles, hard, as if she was afraid the building was going to buck at any moment and send her flying to her death. "What are you doing up here? Are you crazy?"

I just picked up another pebble and chucked it over the edge. My fingers were picking incessantly at the rough shingle, prying up bits of it and breaking them into smaller pieces. I began throwing them over the edge.

"What's wrong?" Quinn's voice was softer now. I looked at her, steeling myself against her scrutiny.

"I don't feel like talking about it." My words were completely void of emotion.

"You've been crying," Quinn said, reaching up her hand to rub at the dampness that remained on my cheek. I jerked my head away from her, turning to look into the darkness. "Who was on the phone with you?"

"Brittany." The word exploded out of my mouth, and it left a better taste on my tongue. That was new.

Quinn's brows shot up, and she just nodded, then slowly tucked her arm through mine, looping us together. "I see."

I ripped up a roof tile and jerked, throwing it over the edge with more fury than I had wanted to. But I didn't pull away from Quinn. I felt like she was the only thing keeping me tethered, grounded. "What exactly do you think you see, Quinn?" My words were hard, and angry.

"I don't know what she told you, but it must have been bad," Quinn replied carefully.

I chuckled, but the sound lacked all mirth. "She's dating Artie." I don't know why I decided to tell her that, but I did. And suddenly, I felt all the anger fall out of me, and I just wanted to cry. I slammed my body backwards with a thud, pressing against the incline of the roof and rubbing my palms into my eyes.

Quinn was quiet for a moment, looking at me, letting me sit there while the tears trickled out. They weren't the huge flood that came out of her the night she woke up from her nightmare, or even the animalistic sobs that choked her the first night. These were silent, but they were so hot they burned my face as they trailed down my cheeks.

She held my hand in both of hers and squeezed, and then scooted closer to me and slipped her arm underneath my head. She was opening her body for me to nestle into, just as I had done for her that night. I wanted to resist – Quinn Fabray did _not_ need to take care of me – but I couldn't. I just couldn't. I felt small and hopeless, and so angry and sad. I turned towards her and buried my face against the crook of her neck, taking shallow breaths, letting the tears fall.

It took a while, but my crying stopped. Without saying anything, she tugged on my wrist, and began the descent back into our dorm room. I followed, because there wasn't any fight left in me. I was done being alone now, anyway, because Quinn was there.

Once we were inside, she helped me tug off my cardigan, then undid the buttons on my shirt, and pushed it down over my shoulders. I didn't even object when she undid the clasp for my skirt and tugged it down, gently. I let her do what she wanted. I felt empty and listless. She pulled a shirt on and helped me into baggy pajama bottoms, then took my hair down and ran her fingers through it a few times. She led me over to her own bed, laid me down, and turned off the lights. I felt her crawl into the bed, beneath the covers, and turn towards me. I simply reached out my hand, in the darkness, and found hers. Our fingers clasped, linking them together. I fell asleep holding her hand.

**A/N**: I have a lot of ideas for this story, so I don't think I'll abandon it. I intend to update every day or every other day until it's done.

I'm really anxious to hear what you guys think about this chapter.. it was hard for me to write, for a lot of reasons. Please review.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **I checked my e-mail today and realized a ton of people are following this story or have favorited it, so thanks! It makes me feel happy to know more than 18 people have read it, lol.

About doing Quinn's POV – I don't know. Maybe. She's hard enough for me to write like this, so being inside her head would be a big challenge for me.

Chapter 7

I spent the rest of the week feeling disconnected from reality. It took me seconds longer to respond to the simplest of things, like my alarm going off in the morning or someone asking me a question. I usually turned blank eyes towards direct inquiries, and shrugged by way of answer. It wasn't earning me any friends, that was for sure – most of my teachers had lectured me in front of the whole class for not paying attention. Sometimes, I could feel anger flare up, but it was far away – just like everything else. I went through the next two days feeling disjointed and detached, and generally apathetic towards everything.

Brittany had tried to call me Thursday night, but I ignored it. I barely texted her, and I could tell she felt bad. Even that didn't matter to me, not really. It was like it was happening to someone else, and I couldn't stir up the passion to really care.

Quinn, surprisingly, left me alone as much as possible. She looked at me with knowing eyes and limited our conversations, using herself as a buffer between me and anyone else we encountered while together. I knew I should probably be glad about it, but I recognized it only through a haze of indifference.

When I woke up on Friday, it was as if something clicked inside me. I blinked, and the whole world shifted back into focus, bright and dazzling. I even smiled a little bit, stretching my arms above my head. Quinn was sitting at her computer desk with a cup of coffee, already having gotten dressed and ready for the day. That girl is like a damn pop tart – jumping out of bed and getting ready with enthusiasm. It takes me much, much longer to be as awake as her, and I slept later.

"Hey, Quinn!" I said, and she jumped, sloshing the brown liquid around inside its container. She turned to look at me with startled eyes, a look of surprise on her face.

"It's Friday!" I told her with enthusiasm.

"Yes, how astute of you, Santana," She said, quietly, but she was trying to hide her smile.

"That means we get to go home today, right?" I turned over in the bed, cuddling my head down into my pillow and wrapping my comforter around my legs.

Her face flashed with an emotion I couldn't recognize, and then her eyebrows furrowed. "Uh, are you sure you still want to do that..?"

I nodded my head yes, hard. "Yeah, why wouldn't I?"

Quinn huffed out a breath. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because Brittany is going to be with Artie? What if she has plans to hang out with him? I already know you didn't tell her we're coming."

I frowned at her. "Why would you know that?"

Quinn realized by the tone of my voice that she had better tread softly. She straightened a bit in her seat and then gestured towards me, palms outwards. "She's my friend, too, Santana. I was just checking on her."

I scowled, lifting myself up from my prone position. I could feel that my hair was a crazy mess. It usually is. Next to the word "bed head" in the dictionary should be a picture of yours truly first thing in the morning.

I thought about denying the thing between Brittany and me, but it was only a brief consideration. Quinn knows. At one point, that simple, two-word sentence would have sent me into caterwauls of panic, and had me fighting the knowledge with everything inside me. _Quinn knows._ But that was before.. before things like Quinn's nightmares, or the mud, or the night she held my hand while I slept. Now, knowing that Quinn knows is just something I have learned to accept, and partially be grateful for. It's not a secret anymore – not something I have to limit to between Britt and I. And at some point, it had been delicious, knowing we had something between us that was private and nobody else knew, but the delight in that simple fact had turned to lead in the last few months, weighing heavy against my mind and heart. Now it was lightened, if only a little bit, because I let Quinn in on it.

"Well, so what? She'll want to hang out with me." I sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, not quite missing the guarded look Quinn threw my way. I started towards the bathroom, not bothering to close the door behind me. I started messing with my hair and then gave up and decided to take a shower, there was no saving it without a complete redo.

About an hour later, I left the bathroom, showered, styled, and ready for the day. I was impatient for it to be 3 o'clock and time for school to let out. Quinn was still sitting at her desk, scrolling through some website on her laptop.

"Are you ready, Blondie?" I asked, coming up behind her. She stilled her moving fingers, tensing a bit when I leaned down to read what she was looking at over her shoulder. My cheek brush against her hair and I could smell her – her lavender body wash, her light, flowery perfume, and the sharp, heavy scent of coffee.

Quinn angled her head and met my eyes, a curious look washing over her face. Her brow rose, and her lips quirked, and I was aware that they were _right there,_ within easy kissing distance. I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat and then shot her a smile, stepping backwards. I almost never initiate this kind of closeness between us for that reason – it made my heart start to hammer in my chest and a flood of color wash my cheeks. Being that close to Quinn made me nervous, and there was no denying the why of it anymore.. I wanted her. It was pure and unabashedly sexual longing, and though I couldn't come to terms with my feelings for Brittany or even begin to examine the way I felt about Quinn, I knew what it felt like to _want._ It caused long, liquid streams of fire to originate in my gut and shoot up and down my body in a persistent tugging that ended somewhere between my legs. It caught me off guard, especially when I felt like I was finally getting comfortable around her.. then I would somehow catch a glimpse of her legs beneath her short Atherton skirt or I would find myself watching her lips as she talked.

I didn't think Quinn was as oblivious to her effect on me as she let on. It was something about the devious quirk of her smile or the mischievous glint of her dimples that made me realize she was toying with me. It had only been a week since I arrived here, and my world was turned upside down, but of that I was pretty sure. She loved getting in my space and touching me before I knew she was going to. At first, I had tried to brush it off as the easy physical casualness between friends, but now.. now that she _knew.._ it seemed a lot more like flirting. And I didn't really let myself begin to think about what that meant to me, much less what it meant to Quinn. Quinn's straight, right? Right.

I cleared my throat and averted my gaze as she stood up, and then reached down to pick up my backpack. I walked towards the door and held it open for her, gesturing with my fingers. "After you, Blondie."

**Xxxxx**

"You're sure about this?" Quinn was asking me, again, for about the hundredth time since I woke up that morning. I was bouncing on the balls of my feet, consumed with excitement at the idea of leaving Atherton. I didn't realize until now how much it felt like a prison, and I was dying to escape. I had packed a quick bag full of nightclothes and a few outfits, a toothbrush, things like that. I was wearing a long, baggy yellow tank top and jean cutoffs. Quinn was wearing a white sun dress, her hair in perfect order, the gold glint of a cross winking around her neck.

"Yes, for the last time. I'm sure." I didn't know what she was so bothered about, anyway. I hopped into the passenger side of her green turbo bug, and immediately flipped the radio on. Quinn buckled herself into the driver's side, and without even looking at me snapped the volume down. I made a face at her, then began messing with the dial until a rap station came on. I turned it back up.

Quinn held out about thirty seconds before laughing at me, because I was rapping to the words in _Look At Me Now_ and making crazy faces at her. It was the most free I had felt in a long time. She kept her eyes on the road and both hands on the wheel, picking up speed as we got on the onramp that would take us back to Lima.

"Did you text Puck?" Quinn asked, over the heady throb of the song, which was now playing _Bottom's Up_.

"Hmm, yeah. He said his uncle told him he could have another party tonight. So we're going straight there." I told her, flipping through my cell phone. I usually avoided texting Puck if I could. He always tried to turn it into something sexual, and that ship had long sailed – around the time he knocked Quinn up, and started canoodling Rachel, to be honest. Puck was never anything serious for me, anyway.. just some hunk of meat I could claim as mine, to keep the majority of the slavering boys away from me.

Quinn pursed her lips and pressed them into a thin white line, but didn't say anything. I got the feeling she didn't approve of this, though she was going along with it. I didn't get her. Didn't she want to see our friends, too?

"So does your dad know you're coming home?" She asked me, much later and several radio station changes later.

"Uh, no." I was reading something on my phone and so I was a little distracted. "I'm just going to stay with Britt."

Quinn's head whipped around to look at me like I had just spoke in a foreign language. I looked at her. "What?"

"Just, maybe you should tell Brittany you're coming," Quinn said quietly.

I shrugged. I wanted to surprise her. "No, it's not going to be a big deal. She'll let me stay with her."

Quinn nodded, her eyebrows furrowing. "I'm sure." A long pause. "But it might be different now."

I snapped my head up to look at her, my turn to look confused. "Uh, what? How do you mean?"

Quinn waited a long time before saying anything, and then just shook her head. "Nothing. It's nothing."

My expression was puzzled, and I examined her face, trying to decipher what she was hinting at. Usually I'm not this clueless, but Quinn is a naturally opaque person – extremely hard to read or gauge. She was being particularly enigmatic now, keeping her eyes planted firmly on the winding highway in front of us and her tone carefully neutral.

I swallowed, fighting the growing tightness in my chest. "Do you want to talk about this, Quinn?" I started out weakly, and then pressed my forehead against the cold glass of the car window. "Like, about me and Brittany?"

Quinn shifted uncomfortably in her seat, darting a quick look at me. "Hmm. If you want to."

I shook my head violently. "No. I don't. But I thought you might be curious."

Quinn was restless now, different emotions flitting across her face, too quickly for me to pin one down. She was squeezing the steering wheel and settling her weight from one side to the other.

"Well, I do recall you telling me, distinctly, that you're not gay.."

I winced. "I'm not. I mean, who knows?" I gestured impatiently in front of me. "I have sex with guys. You know?"

Quinn's face darkened for a fraction of an instant and then the look was replaced by icy indifference. "Mhm. Yeah. But it's not about who you have sex with," She said, turning now to give me a pointed look. "It's about who you fall in love with."

I scrunched my face up, trying to process what she was saying. "Fall in love with? Really, Teen Mom? Where do you come up with this stuff, an after school special?"

Quinn rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "Please, can we have one conversation where you don't deflect with insults?"

I swallowed. "No. I mean, yes. Okay. I'll try."

Quinn's face softened a little bit, and she reached down to squeeze my fingers briefly.

"So.." I let the word out in a long whistle. "Hmm. In love with. Yeah, okay, I can see that. But I'm not in love with Brittany," I added quickly. Quinn's eyebrows shot up and she just turned to look at me. _Not buying it,_ her face seemed to say.

I scowled, pressing the pad of my finger onto her window, making greasy doodles on the glass. It gave me something to do with my hands. "I just don't know. I might be. I've never thought about it. Why would I? There just was always Brittany, and this thing between us.." I gestured into the empty space in front of me. "It's natural and normal. It's nothing I've ever had to think too hard about. I love her. She's my best friend." I turned my body towards Quinn, a little surprised at the brevity of my own words. I could tell she was soaking in what I said, because she kept her face carefully blank. "But we both have sex with boys. I even dated Puckerman last year. Sure, she's with Artie now.. but there's always going to be _us._"

Quinn was silent for a long moment. When she spoke, her tone was jagged, like she had to fight past a strong emotion just to get the words out. "Have you ever done anything with another girl?"

I quickly shook my head _no. _"Brittany started making out with girls right after we started, but I never did. It.. uh.. she was always enough for me." I shrugged self-consciously.

Quinn nodded, then took a heavy breath and let it out. "So, you're not _attracted_ to other girls, at all?"

Her words hit me with the full force of a donkey kick to the gut. I felt the breath whoosh out of me and my face turn a dark color, my face staring at her in complete shock. My mouth even had dropped open, but I snapped it closed. "Why?" I asked, wonderingly.

Quinn's face darkened too, but she had an irritated look on her face now. "Because maybe you're bisexual?"

Oh. Hmm. I mulled the thought over in my head, trying to ignore the deep blush that colored my cheeks. I had thought, for a second, that Quinn was asking me if I was attracted to her. "Yeah. Definitely."

Quinn seemed surprised that I came to that conclusion so quickly, and admitted it without any kind of struggle. That was a lot easier to say than _hey, nice to meet you, I'm Ohio's biggest lesbian._ I smiled, a little relieved. Then I let it drop from my face quickly. "Okay, but I'm not interested in any labels, all right? Not going to start painting the rainbow flag on me and marching in pride parades."

Quinn laughed, and shook her head. "What are you so _scared_ of, Santana? Nobody is going to care about it."

I shrugged, bristling a little bit at the mockery in her tone. "You wouldn't understand." I crossed my arms over my chest and stared out the window, unwilling to continue the conversation. Of course, if anyone could understand, it would be Quinn – she was like me, concerned with her reputation and social standing. She had lost everything when she got pregnant.. and I hadn't hesitated to fill in her place at the top of the social ladder. It had been nice, getting the respect and the envy of everyone, but it was hard, because you can't fuck up even one little bit. It's like with that hot spotlight on you, everyone can see everything about you, every little flaw, and they circle around you like buzzards, waiting for you to expose just one little imperfection, before they strike, and drag you down among the other carrion.

Quinn let me stew in silence for a while, before I just grunted and leaned forward, snapping the radio back on. _Conversation over._

**Xxxx**

Quinn pressed her fingertips into my shoulder urgently, jerking me out of my doze. I shifted, blinking my eyes at her. We were parked on a huge front lawn that had only a gravel driveway. The house was situated on the back half of the property. I immediately recognized the scent of a bonfire, and I could hear the yells and music of a large party erupting in the distance. I smiled sleepily at her.

"Ready?" Quinn asked, though her tone implied this was something to dread instead of look forward to. I just nodded, unsnapping my seat belt. I unfolded myself from the sitting position, stretching out my limbs and working the creaks out of my neck. A quick check in Quinn's side mirror showed that my makeup was still in place and my hair was still neatly curled down my back.

I began a quick walk towards the gathering of people around the bonfire, my face lighting up when I caught sight of my tall blonde friend. Quinn hung behind me, her hands clasped in front of her, as if she were nervous or hesitant. I didn't understand that about her, but I didn't have time to think about it because as soon as Brittany spied me, her face lit up in a huge grin and she sprinted towards me and threw herself into me, knocking me back a few steps. I laughed, squeezing my arms around her, and she was squealing and had wrapped her legs around me. I nearly toppled backwards, and the feeling in my chest was so big and happy that I almost cried. Almost. But I didn't, because then there were a bunch of other people surrounding us, and the noise level amped up because everyone wanted hugs and they were excited to see me.

I was so happy to see everyone that I was even nice to Finn, who walked up to give me a one-armed hug, the other hand wrapped around a beer bottle. "What's up, buddy?" He said, with a doofy look on his face. I had to bite back about a dozen insults about how he looked like a beached whale or suggestions that he try Weight Watchers, but decided to be nice for now. I nodded in the direction of Quinn, who stood a little back, out of the immediate circle of light from the bonfire. Finn watched me angle my head and then his own face split into a huge smile, and he ambled over to say hi to her.

"Santana!" Brittany was right next to me, hanging onto my arm. "Why didn't you say you were coming back?"

"I wanted to surprise you, Britt," I said, grinning. She laughed, and I thought she was probably a little drunk already.

"That's _so great_," She said, giving me another hug. "Do you want to go to a movie on Sunday?"

"Uhh," I said, distracted by the cup that somebody handed me. I sniffed it, deciding it was alcohol, probably vodka. I took a healthy swallow. "I figured I'd stay the night at your place, and we'd get facials tomorrow."

Britt's expression turned into one of utter confusion. "I can't." She said it like it was kind of a foreign subject to her, something she didn't entirely understand. "I made plans with Artie, to go to the mall."

I frowned at her, swilling the contents of my cup around. "So? Cancel them."

Britt was getting that look on her face that meant she didn't know what to say, a look that always made my heart crack just the tiniest bit. "He's just a stupid boy, Brittany." I told her, because it seemed so obvious, but obvious things weren't always so for Britt.

Her eyebrows knit, and now I knew she was having trouble. "I can't just cancel on him, Santana. It wouldn't be right. It would hurt his feelings."

"And?" I was suddenly getting angry, and that almost never happened with Brittany. It was probably the alcohol working, but also the insecurity and pent up emotions that had been hanging around with me since Wednesday.

"I can't do it. We'll go to the movies on Sunday," Brittany said, reaching down to squeeze my free hand between both of hers, before dropping it. She turned and wandered back towards Artie, who was waiting with Tina and Mike.

I scowled at her, watching her go. I was mulling the thoughts over in my head and was suddenly filled with so much anger and pain. I wanted to do something to get away from this feeling, anything.. I wanted to run, or hit something, or scream or cry. I couldn't handle it, it was like a giant wall inside me and it was begging to be let out.

I jumped when I felt someone's palm against my shoulder, and snarled at Puck as he tucked his arm against me and shoved me close to him. "Hey, babe," He said, his breath smelling strongly like beer and stale cigarettes. I grimaced. "Are you staying here tonight?"

"In your dreams, Noah," I spat, sliding out from underneath his arm.

"Oh, don't be like that," He said, reaching for my waist to pull me closer to him. I lashed out, slapping against his arm with my fingertips. He yelped and drew his arms back.

"Don't touch me," I hissed.

"Bitch." He muttered as he walked away, cradling his forearm. I could feel my fingernails snag against it, breaking the skin when I slapped. I absently flicked the pieces of flesh away from me.

"Here," Mercedes said, coming up beside me suddenly. I almost snapped at her, too, but refrained because I saw she was holding a bottle of beer. I took it gratefully and began to chug it. "Whoa, slow down," She said, but just stepped back when I glared at her.

I spent the rest of the night avoiding Brittany, who, to her credit, did try to find me a few times. Every time I turned around she was asking about me, in her slurred, jilted way that meant she was too drunk to know what was going on. I kept dodging her, pulling out beer and taking shots at every opportunity. I didn't see Quinn anywhere. I bet she disappeared with Finn some place. I scowled, remembering how 'in love' they had been sophomore year, before Puck and Rachel got in between them. It made me wonder if Quinn had ever slept with Finn.

Even though I was pissed at Artie for ruining my chances with Brittany tonight, I still kept a look out for her, and cornered Puck and threatened him when he got too handsy with her. Artie didn't have the balls to stand up to Puck and Britt didn't have the sobriety to fight him off. Eventually, threats became too hard so I gave in and distracted him with kisses. It was just easier that way.

After hours of drinking, I found myself lying on the dirt next to a bush, cradling a cup of some kind of liquor and staring at the sky as it slowly danced around me. I could hear the party going on, but it was dull, like it was coming from a different room. I felt queasy and had to swallow against the hot flood of bile in my throat, suppressing the urge to wretch.

I heard footsteps crunch in the grass and I groaned, ready to roll into a ball if it was Puck coming to cop a feel. "Beat it, Puckerman," I muttered, my words barely audible.

"Here you are," Quinn said, and I could tell by her tone she was pissed. I lolled my head to the side to stare up at her. She crouched down, placing her hand against my shoulder. I was so drunk I couldn't really feel it.

"Whad'dya wan'?" I slurred and frowned at her.

"Santana," She said with a quiet sigh, then stood up and started hollering. "Sam!"

After a few moments a tall, muscled blond boy appeared.

"Guppy face," I said to him, accusingly. He had the biggest lips of anyone I'd ever met.

He grinned, but turned his attention to Quinn. "What's up?"

"Can you carry her?" She pointed to me, then to her car parked over a ways. "She can't walk."

"No problem." He reached down and scooped me up in his arms, cradling me against his chest like I was a child. I hummed in my throat, because the world was moving way too quickly and I needed to throw up.

"Salamander lips." I told him, but I don't think he heard. "Big trouty mouth."

He laughed, as Quinn opened the passenger door, and laid me down in the seat. "Creative, isn't she?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "This is her being nice."

I leaned out of the car and ralphed all over the grass, the vomit spattering on across their feet. Sam grimaced, and Quinn made a disgusted noise.

Quinn closed the door on me and shut me into the silence of the car. I fumbled around with the seat settings and reclined it completely, letting my head slide wherever it wanted to. I was way too drunk.

Quinn came around and opened the driver door and then closed it with a bang. I scowled at her. She started the engine and then began backing up. I lidded my eyes and just listened to the sounds of the car running, before a random thought popped into my head.

"Sorry about Finn." I said into the silence. I wasn't looking at Quinn so I didn't know how she reacted.

"What? What about him?" She sounded puzzled. "Put your seatbelt on."

I ignored her, and just kept my eyes closed, with my cheek pressed against the headrest. "I slep' with him. But he should'a been yours."

Quinn barked out a startled laugh. "Santana, you're drunk," She said, as if that wiped away everything I said. "And if you recall, I wasn't with him. He was sort of dating Rachel at the time. So if you have to apologize, do it to her."

I shook my head, but then stopped, because that made everything woozy. "Still yours."

Quinn was uncomfortable and I could tell. But it was important, because I felt bad about sleeping with Finn ever since I did it. I was never even interested in him – he was big and geeky and puffy, not my type at all. It was a whim, and a way to get back at Berry, whom I hated.

She finally sighed. "Don't be sorry about it. It was never going to be right between us after Puck."

I was drifting off before her voice snapped me out of it. "I'm sorry about that, too." It seemed like it took a lot out of her to say to me.

I pried my eyes open to stare glassily at her. "Huh?"

"Puck." She said it uncomfortably, squeezing the steering wheel. "We slept together while you guys were dating."

I shrugged. "I don't care about Puck." I never really did.

Quinn just sighed, shaking her head slowly.

When we got to her house all the lights were off except the one that lit her back porch. She parked in the driveway, then stepped out to open my door. Her hands were firm on my forearms as she helped me up from the car.

"Can you make it inside?" She hissed in a whisper, and I just nodded. "We have to be extremely quiet. My mom will kill me if she knows we were drinking."

I tried, but I felt like I was walking on clouds, and they kept slipping out from underneath me. My feet stumbled and tripped, and I banged into things. Quinn winced at every noise, but just kept her hands planted firmly on my forearms, guiding me through her dark house and then upstairs, into her bedroom.

She let out a tense breath when the door was finally closed, and I simply slumped into a jumble of limbs on the floor. I intended fully to pass out right there, because her bed was about a mile away, and I was tired of moving.

"Santana." Quinn said, scolding. "Come on. We have to get you changed."

I batted at her hands, curling up in the fetal position. "No. Leave me alone."

"Santana," Quinn said it with more patience, then crouched down beside her. Her big green eyes were full of concern, and she rubbed her palm against my lower back. "Do you feel sick? Do you have to throw up again?"

I shook my head no, but then swallowed the saliva that the motion caused. I felt miserable and I just wanted to dig myself a hole and disappear into it. I couldn't take Quinn's kindness, and the sudden rush of what had happened earlier at the party swamped me. Brittany. Brittany rejecting me to spend time with Wheels. Images of her hugging him and sitting on his lap, pushing his wheelchair and kissing him flooded my brain and I tried to bite back the cry that wrenched itself from by throat, but I couldn't. Sobs were pulling from me, and I just let go, because it hurt too much to hold it in. Quinn laid her hand against the curve of my spine and rested the other one on my shoulder, but didn't rub, just laid her hands there, letting me know I wasn't alone.

"Stop, being, nice, to, me," I said through clenched teeth, and tried to roll away from her, but she caught me easily and then looped my arm over her own shoulder, pulling my waist against her with the other hand, dragging me upwards. I stumbled against her, but she aimed me towards the bed and I landed on it with a soft oomph. I was still crying, but they were dry, wracking sobs, and I muffled them into her pillow.

Quinn just crawled in beside me, not bothering to undress herself or me, and hugged me to her. I smacked at her hands at first, because I didn't want her holding me. I just wanted to curl into a little ball and sob myself out. But eventually I gave in, and let her cuddle close, pulling me into the crook of her neck again. I felt empty and so heavy with anguish, all at once. I almost didn't notice what she was doing at first, but when I did, it made my heart catch in my throat.

She was peppering small, light kisses along my cheek, her lips rubbing over the trails of wetness that the tears had left. She was doing it slowly, gently, while her arms held me and her hands massaged against my back softly. I froze, even in the middle of crying, because I had never felt Quinn's lips against my skin, and I didn't know what to do. They were so soft and so light it made me wonder if I was dreaming.

I stopped crying, because even though my heart was heavy and it ached, I felt something else stirring in it, and it had nothing to do with Brittany. I looked at Quinn through thick, tear-matted eyelashes and tried to understand. I couldn't. The booze in my system was making everything swirl around me and mash together and nothing, especially this, made any sense.

"I don't deserve you being so nice to me," I whispered against her neck, and I felt her pause. She laid down beside me, so that our faces were right next to each other on the pillow, and she lifted a hand to drag it through my hair, smoothing it out behind my head. She worked her fingertips into my scalp, which made it tingle.

"You really think that?" She whispered back, and her eyes were big on mine. I nodded, unable to speak.

Quinn smiled, a small, unsure smile, and then leaned forward, and I felt myself suck in a breath right before my eyes slammed shut, bracing for it. Quinn rubbed her lips against mine, so delicately, the pressure extremely faint. I held my breath as heat swamped my system, making me light headed and dizzy, turning my stomach into a cauldron of nerves and butterflies.

She pulled back, looked at me with her heavy green eyes, and then leaned forward again, pressing her mouth against mine with more pressure. This time I responded, shifting beneath her, opening my mouth slightly to wet the kiss, though I didn't try to go any deeper. I felt like every nerve in my body was centered on our lips, on the slow, excruciating pace of the kiss and the gentle, persistent pressure. It caused my heart to beat in fast, thick beats and tension to coil in my gut, mounting and releasing with every second. I didn't know what to do with my hands. Quinn had stilled hers against my head, but her fingers were still tangled in my hair. I lifted my left hand and framed her face, but softly, careful that too much weight would scare her away.

After a long moment, she pulled back, and the look in on her face was breathtaking. There was a slight blush in her cheeks, and her full lips looked swollen and red. She bit her bottom lip, her eyes searching mine, but I didn't know for what. So I smiled. It was a small one, because I had been crying only moments before and this kissing surprised me, but I still creased my lips into a gentle curve.

She smiled back, relief flooding her face. I had to chuckle. "Just how many did you have to drink, Fabray?"

She shook her head slowly, and then started running her fingers through my hair again. "None."

I smirked at her, because I think that the majority of my drunkenness was wearing off. "I don't believe it. I thought you were one of those girls who had to have a few in you before you started with the lady kisses."

Quinn laughed quietly, then reached down to pull the blankets over us, not bothering to shift our positions any. "What can I say? I guess I'm Santana-sexual."

**A/N:** Will you believe me if I promise that they aren't going to cry in every chapter? No? I don't blame you.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** I love all the reviews, thank you so much!

To answer some questions – yes this is a Quinntana fic, but I thought it had to have some Brittana in it for it to make any sense, and I'm honestly not even sure how it's going to end right now.

Also, after-alcohol-vomit-kisses are the BEST KIND! :D Haha not really. But we've all had them. Or at least I have. Eugh. I wish, in retrospect, that if it had _had_ to happen to me, that it was Naya Rivera's drunken barf-y kiss, but no such luck.

Chapter 8

My head throbbed. Imagine that term they use – splitting headache? Yeah, you've heard of it, right? Well that definitely defined the sharp, immense, repetitive pain that stabbed at my brain. It woke me up, but slowly, because the alcohol had curled its fingers around my mind and anchored me into a state of half-dreaming. My mouth felt like I had chewed on sandpaper, and I felt dry and pretty scummy altogether. I cracked my eyes open, terrified I'd be assaulted by a wave of light, but it was still mostly dark in the room. I was disoriented at first, because I didn't recognize where I was – until I noticed that Quinn's face was smashed on top of my shoulder, her arm resting comfortably over my midsection.

Then my eyes flew open fast, and my body coiled with tension. _Oh. My. God._ The memories from the night before came rushing back, and with every moment my breathing escalated and my face heated up. It seemed surreal, but one look at my pink-headed friend and it was like my lips buzzed with the recollection, which was something I knew I couldn't dream up even if I tried.

I had to consciously slow my breathing down because it felt like I was headed for hyperventilation-ville. Quinn shifted, lifting her face to where her face was angled more towards mine, and let out a soft little noise. It was kinda cute, but I wasn't trying to think about her being cute right now. I lifted my free arm and began to rub furiously over my face, trying to erase the fogginess that I still felt in my brain. Most of the night was like still frame pictures; _click_ here's one of Brittany sitting on Artie's lap _click_ there's one of Puckerman's face against my cheek _click_ there's Tina helping me find someplace to pee _click_ that big-mouthed boy holding me against his chest.

It got a little clearer after that, mostly because I remember throwing up. Then the awkward car ride with Quinn.. and me crying in her room.. and then us _kissing._

My mind stuttered over that realization, because it seemed too unreal. No way Quinn Fabray kissed me – and what had she said, some snarky little comment about being Santana-sexual? Oh, it was too much, way too much for me to think about right now, with the hangover sinking its teeth into me and the heaviness from thoughts of Brittany hanging over my mind.

I was in a crisis, and wasn't really sure what to do about it. It was Saturday, so I knew Quinn's mom would probably be gone for most of the day at her Christian Society Ladies' meetings or what the hell ever she did on the weekends, but I also knew that it was probably before dawn so she's most likely in the house somewhere. I had to pee really badly, I needed a glass of water and I wanted to brush my teeth. I had no idea if Quinn had told her mom that I was staying here, and I didn't want her to freak out thinking I was some lazy home invader with wild bedhead. And it was rare that I ever woke up before Quinn, because she has some kind of internal clock that has her popping up with the sunrise. It was nice to watch her sleep, if even for a little while.

I sighed, resigned myself to the lesser of two evils – facing Quinn's mom. After what Quinn did for me last night, there's no way I'm going to wake her up and bug her about helping me walk around her house. I'm pretty familiar with it anyhow, and I knew there was a bathroom just down the hall.

I slid out from underneath Quinn as carefully as I could, and then tip-toed out of her bedroom, closing the door partially behind me. I crept into the upstairs bathroom, feeling a little bit like a burglar because the house was so quiet and sleepy. I wondered, briefly, what Quinn's mom did all the time, now – since Quinn was away at Atherton, and Quinn's older sister was in college, and Mr. Fabray was staying across town in a condo. I shrugged, pushing the thought out of my mind, and flipped the lights on.

Whoa. I looked like something the cat dragged in. My makeup was smeared and crusty, my skin tone irregular and blotchy, and my hair.. I patted at it ruefully. These are the consequences to going to sleep without proper hygiene, I thought to myself, then promptly sat down at the toilet and peed.

It took a while but I got some of the snags out of my hair and had washed the grit from my face, scrubbing with a makeup remover towelette at the mascara that had pooled beneath my eyes. I realized that Quinn had left my bag in the car, so I settled for smearing toothpaste on my finger and scrubbing around inside my mouth with it for a while. It was enough. I felt better. There was no way I was going to go downstairs to get a cup for some water, so I just dipped my hands beneath the faucet and slurped up some healthy mouthfuls. I dug around in the Fabrays' medicine cabinent before I produced a small plastic bottle that rattled when shook, which made me feel like somehow, somewhere, there _is_ a God.

I dry swallowed four ibuprofen gratefully, took another swig of faucet water, and then flipped the light off and stealth-walked back to Quinn's room.

I watched Quinn sleep for an eerily long amount of time, eyebrows furrowed, a look of concentration on my face. I wasn't sure what to do with this sudden turn of events (_sudden?_ My mind tried to argue with me, but I just slapped it silent) and I was debating on climbing up on bed with her and waking her up with a taste of her own treatment. I grinned briefly at that, and shrugged, though there was no one in the room to see it. Hey – if Quinn wanted to awaken_ that _sleeping giant, then who was I to resist? Plus I'm notorious for following my glands rather than the advice of any kind of good sense.

I was actually moving towards the bed with every aim of kissing Quinn awake before I realized I just wasn't ready for it. It nagged at my conscience because it felt like something I would have no problem doing with a boy, to distract myself from the twinge of losing Brittany to the Crippled Wonder, but this situation had the capability to be extremely volatile and end up utterly backfiring. So I hesitated, and then cursed at myself and my infernal morality. I turned away from her after giving Quinn one long, lingering look, as if trying to persuade myself that she was just _too damn hot_ to care about things like consequences or feelings.. but I knew Quinn deserved more than to be used for her body as a distraction. And though I wasn't feeling particularly generous towards Brittany right now, I knew even _she_ deserved me to treat these circumstances with kid gloves.  
>I peeled off my sweaty yellow tank and dropped it on the floor, curling my nose at it. I yanked down my jean shorts and then rummaged around in Quinn's drawers, finding an oversized t-shirt with Bob Marley on it. I quirked a brow at it, then shrugged and pulled it on. I didn't bother with any kind of bottoms because I was starting to get drowsy again, and I knew Quinn had thinner hips and longer legs than me, so most of her crap would be tight around the middle and long enough to make me feel absolutely dwarfish.<p>

I carefully crept back into bed with her, doing my best to insinuate myself underneath her arms and not wake her all at once. "You're so lucky I'm a decent person, Blondie," I muttered, feeling sleep drag at my eyes the moment I became horizontal. "You woulda been in for a hell of a surprise."

The next thing I knew, I could feel somebody trailing their fingers along my stomach, and my eyes flew open, immediately locking with Quinn's own. She had a deviant smirk plastered on her face, but aside from that, the first thing I noticed was that her hair was wet and she smelled like some kind of goddess. I groaned, swiping the back of my hand over my eyes. "How do you _do_ that?" I asked her thickly.

She was lying on her side with her head propped up by her fist, her free hand dragging those lazy circles across my midriff. "Hmm?" She didn't stop smiling.

"You're like a sneaky morning ninja," I told her, accusingly, still using a fist to rub the sleepy grit from one of my eyes. "You always get up and move around without waking me up." I narrowed my eyes at her. "And I know for a fact that _I_ was laying on _you_, so I don't see how you moved me without waking me up."

Quinn chuckled, stilling her fingers against my stomach, and then laid her palm flat. It radiated warmth and made my belly jump. "Santana, I hate to break it you, but you sleep like a hyper kid suddenly hit with a huge dose of NyQuil,"

I scowled at her, suppressing a yawn. "Nope, no way, Tinkerbell. I've spent _way_ too many sleepless nights next to snoring, grunting boys or in bed with Britt, who kicks and holds bizarre conversations all night long."

Quinn's eyebrow shot up with a grin. "Speaking of sleep conversations.."

I fought back another groan, rolling my eyes. "I don't buy it, Q, so don't even try. I've never had anyone tell me I talk in my sleep before."

"Suit yourself." Her lips quirked upwards slightly, and she had a smug look of superiority on her face, which seemed to say, _you're cute, so I'll humor you._

I stretched, which hitched the t-shirt up higher on my body, and it hit me with sudden force that I wasn't wearing any shorts.. and Quinn's hand was resting right below my belly button. My eyes grew wide with the realization, and I had to quickly divert my gaze, because Quinn was looking at me with those heavy, knowing eyes, and I was pretty sure she'd see the flood of desire there and I'd be found out for sure. I cleared my throat and then gingerly picked her wrist up with two fingers, daintily laying it on the bed beside me, patting the top of it once.

Quinn laughed. "Scared I have cooties?"

I grinned in response. "Hmm, no. I'm pretty sure you're too much of a prude to ever catch anything," I rolled and sat up on my knees in one quick motion, then reached up to smooth down my hopelessly wild hair. "I just think it's too early for a quickie in the morning."

Quinn shifted her eyes over to a bedside alarm clock and pouted her lips a little bit. "But it's almost noon."

I choked on the sudden laughter, all at once shocked and delighted by this innocent-but-not flirting of hers. It was going to make things so much more interesting. "Listen up, Blondie," I told her with some solemnity, "I think you're extremely fine. And I'm definitely fighting against my better judgment by not just jumping you right here and now." I was surprised at my own candidness, but if Quinn was flirting, why couldn't I? "But I think we needs to take this a little slow. Like, hmm, maybe give ourselves time to think about.. what it means or whatever." I trailed off, scanning my eyes down her body's profile, catching at the curve of her hip and then again at her breast. When my eyes settled back on hers, she was smirking.

"Basically, you has to get right with yourself and your God," I told her firmly, giving myself a mental shake. Nothing good would come of me acting on my brash, lewd impulses or being caught up in Quinn's sexy pixie powers. "But, I'm more than willing to help you itch your bi-curious scratch, so to speak, as long as you enter into it knowing that it.. just is what it is." I nodded. "It's kind of my duty as resident bisexual, you know? I have to offer my services to the questioning youth of Ohio." I told her innocently.

Quinn just laughed, shaking her head. "I'm so sure."

"I just didn't want this to turn into some kind of Coyote Ugly situation for you," I told her, because I really didn't. No matter what else happened between Quinn and I, she was someone I had let inside – and that rarely happened. I cared about her, and I didn't want to hurt her. "Like, we have our night of wild passionate lovemaking, then in the morning light you glance over.. see _me_ sleeping next to you, hair all sexy and crazy, maybe showing a bit of boob.. then you run off to your pastor and ask him to preform and exorcism or something."

"You are _such_ a drama queen," Quinn said wonderingly, but she was still smiling. "All right, Santana, I hear you. And even though I hate to admit it you do kind of make sense." She seemed genuinely surprised at that, and I lowered my eyebrows in a scowl. She didn't miss a beat. "After some careful thought and consideration I have come to the conclusion that I would like very much to sleep with you, please."

My eyes flew open and I almost stuttered, which was horrifying enough, but the casualness of Quinn's tone and the delivery of her words shocked the hell out of me. "Damn, Quinn, way to bury the lead!" I told her, suppressing a breathless laugh. I was fighting off the furious blush that wanted to color my cheeks, and was fidgeting nervously on the bed. Something about the way she said '_please'.._

Oh, god, _get a grip, Santana!_ I mentally chastised myself, and tried to look anywhere other than Quinn's face.

"Okay, while I completely understand your enthusiasm to get all up on this," I told her, swallowing thickly, "I still think we ought to wait. Maybe a week or something, hell, I don't know. No way you're _that _sure of it, so soon."

Quinn shrugged, and it was hitting me that she was more and more like a lazy jungle cat, watching its prey scurry around, completely unfazed.

"Why not?" Quinn asked quietly, then laid the flat of her palm against the bare skin of my thigh. It was like a brand ignited beneath her hand, making my muscles twitch and skin burn. "Aren't you?"

I huffed out a weak laugh because it was starting to get hard to concentrate. "Uh, yeah. Completely sure, Tink." I shifted. "But this isn't my first rodeo, if you know what I mean. It's got to be different for you."

"Hmm." Quinn cocked her head speculatively. "I'm pretty well educated about the dynamics of sex, Santana," She pursed her lips into a smile. "I mean, even if I don't have your _firsthand knowledge.._"

I scowled, slapping her hand away from me. She laughed, and I melted just a little bit, though I crinkled my brow in irritation.

"Look, what you've got going on right now, this sly, sexy vixen thing, or whatever?" I gestured between us, because even though I was sitting up and she was reclining, it was clear she had the upper hand. "Totally working. But I'm being serious. Let's give it some time."

Quinn's face flashed in a moment of seriousness, but the expression was swallowed up by an even more lascivious look. God, _where_ was she pulling these from? It was like she had some magic bag of sex tricks hidden somewhere beneath that chaste little sun dress, and her wicked mind just waiting to spring it on unsuspecting people at any moment.

"I have a.. challenge for you," She said wryly, and I felt my mouth begin to water. I had to swallow.

"What's what, Blondie?"

"It's more of a bet, really," She said with self-possessed disinterest, as if she had already made up in her mind who would win this little competition. I cocked my head. "I bet that I can last longer than you."

"What do you mean, last..? How could you _possibly_ begin to know how _long_ I can last?" I asked, incredulous. Quinn's eyes popped way open and it was gratifying to see shock register on her features.

"Oh, god! No, not _like that,_" Quinn hissed, and then regained her composure. "I just meant that I can get you to give in and have sex with me before you can get me to give in." She flashed me a self-assured grin.

I just chuckled, angling my body towards her, my body language becoming abruptly more dominant and domineering. I smirked at her subtle intake of breath. "No way, Q. No way your powers of seduction are better than mine, and that's a fact."

She smiled then, a pretty smile, the old-Quinn smile. "Then you have nothing to worry about."

"Do I have to remind you, Tinkerbell," I said with seriousness, "That just a few minutes ago you were groping me and trying to get me to defile you in your bed..?" I grinned, splaying my fingers in front of me in a gesture that read: _see where we are?_

Quinn chuckled, not at all bothered at this little fact. "Santana, you've got it all wrong," She said, tilting her head towards me. "I wasn't at all trying to get you to defile me. I fully intended to defile _you."_

I had to swallow my grin and almost swallowed my tongue as well, because the remark was so unexpected. Heat crept up my neck and tinged my cheeks again. "Wow, Q. I completely underestimated your sexual prowess." I admitted, a mite guiltily. "Where do you even come up with this stuff? Some weird meek-in-the-streets, freak-in-the-sheets Christian girl handbook?"

Quinn laughed, and then sat up, turning away from me. "It's a natural talent."

I studied her back as she bent down and picked up a discarded article of clothing, falling silent. I was consumed in studying her behind when she spoke again, breaking me out of my trance.

"So do we have a deal?" Quinn asked, turning to face me, her brows raised.

I studied her for a moment, trying to understand the down side of this offer. "Let me just make totally sure I understand you, Q. You want us to engage in a no-holds-barred flirtation-slash-seduction marathon, with the intention of having sex sometime, but with both of us trying to make the other 'give in' and relent first?" I chuckled at Quinn's prim smile. "Piece of cake, Blondie. I promise you have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

Her smile broadened. "We'll see."

I sighed, running my fingers through my hair as Quinn began tidying up her room. "What do you want to do today?"

She continued cleaning up the disarray, without turning back towards me. "I thought you had plans with Brittany today?"

My face darkened in a glower. "No, she had a prior engagement with Wheels. We're supposed to go to a movie tomorrow, but I'm really not feeling it." There was still a hollow feeling in my chest approximately where my heart was located when I thought of Brittany and Artie, and how our relationship had seemed to change overnight – how she was suddenly giving Go-Go-Gadget precedence over the wonder that is Santana Lopez, and I felt cast adrift, unable to anchor myself to anything. It was a lot like drowning on dry land. I had to shake away the feeling, deciding it wasn't worth it to ruin my weekend over. Besides, Quinn had just offered herself as a _marvelous_ distraction.

Quinn was folding and re-folding a towel, not looking at me. "If you want.." She trailed off, then shook her head slightly. "Well, I know you're not going to _want_ to, but you don't really have any other choice.." My anxiety was growing due to her reluctance to just spit it out. I had a dismaying sense that I was not going to like whatever she was about to say.

"I made plans last night to hang out with Finn and Rachel today." She said it like she was resigned to me flipping out, and steeled herself against it. "Sam is coming."

"Sam?" I asked, curiously. "That fishy-lipped boy? He's cute." I told her, trying to fight the sudden flare of jealousy I felt_. Nope, not gonna do this, Lopez_.

Quinn eyed me dryly. "I know. But I'm not interested in any _boys_ right now," The way she said it seemed to imply that the thought of her and the Golden Boy was absolutely ludicrous.

"Well, I'm not willingly signing up to be the fifth wheel to that lovely little set up," I told her, sneering a bit. "I can only handle Rachel Berry in very, very low doses. Like, nonexistent doses. Basically I get irritated if I know she's in the same time zone as me."

Quinn chuckled, my lips pulling into her mouth as if she was fighting laughing despite herself. "What did she ever do to you, anyway?"

I widened my eyes at her. "What did she ever _do_ to me? Quinn, you aren't serious. She's a freakish dwarf mutant with the fashion sense of a demented preschooler. I mean, her nose? Really? It's an affront to God and nature. Her voice is like a harpy's yell. And she is positively, absolutely—"

Quinn held up her hand, palm outwards, in the universal signal to stop. I huffed, because I was just getting warmed up, and I hadn't gone on a rant about Berry in a while.

"Rachel is probably one of the most annoying people I've ever met," Quinn stated, and I nodded, because who was being Captain Obvious? "Still, she's.. sweet. She's not a bad person."

I sighed, shaking my head at Quinn like she was hopeless. "Q, you don't get it. Rachel is not even a _human, _she's from Middle Earth, and I'm almost certain they don't have souls."

Quinn cracked a huge grin despite herself. "Santana, you never cease to amaze me with your vicious wit."

I smiled, tilting my head at her. "I can keep 'em coming all day."

Quinn was digging around in her dresser now, and produced one of her Sunday go-to-meetin' dresses. She turned around and waved it at me. "If you don't be nice, I'll make you wear this," She threatened, and my insults dried up in my mouth.

"Not over my dead body, Quinn Fabray," I told her solemnly. Then I frowned. "Why _do_ you dress like Polly Pocket, anyway?" My tone was genuinely interested. "Because you have one of the most amazing bodies I have ever seen," I told her honestly, nodding at her raised brow. "You owe it to mankind to show it off. I'm pretty sure there's a law about it somewhere."

"Santana," Quinn said dryly, "I just choose not to flaunt myself like.. well, like _you do,_"

"And thank god for that," I chimed in. "You would cause havoc in the streets. Poor, unsuspecting men everywhere would get distracted and crash their cars into bridges. Women would faint with envy. It would be widespread pandemonium." Quinn laughed.

"But there is a way for you to avoid looking like Mandy Moore in A Walk to Remember and look more, I don't know, _normal._"  
>Quinn tilted her head at me. "Don't you get enough of a show when I wear my Atherton uniform?"<p>

I smirked at her. "It's not just for my benefit, Blondie. It's for your own. You deserve it to yourself to stop dressing like a preacher's daughter."  
>Quinn smiled, because she couldn't hold it in anymore. "How about I promise to let you play dress up with me sometime?"<p>

My face blossomed in a huge grin. "Wanky, Fabray. Very wanky."

She cleared her throat and then changed the subject. "So, are you going to come with us? Me, Finn, Rachel, and Sam?"

"Definitely no. I'll just walk around a park or something 'til you're done. I wouldn't be able to watch Sam make googly eyes at you, or Finn devour Rachel like one of those octopus-faced aliens sucking the life out of somebody."

Quinn even grimaced at that. "Yeah, it doesn't sound appealing to me either."

"Then let's ditch 'em. We'll get our Breadstix on or something. I am in serious need of a manny-peddy, girl," I told her, flashing her my nails with a look of long suffering, though they were, as always, perfect.

Quinn smiled at me, seeming to be genuinely amused. "Why don't you just invite Puck or something, make it a triple date?"

My face immediately glowered. "Are you serious? I bet he hasn't even had the chance to wash the smell of skank off him from last night. No, no thank you, Noah Puckerman is definitely not on my list of appropriate consorts."

Quinn hummed, digging around in her nightstand, though I wasn't sure precisely what for. "What about Mike Chang? Or Dave Karofsky?"

I grimaced. "Okay, where are you on your Facebook relationship status changes, because _hello?_ Mike and Tina have been Asian Fusion for, like, a month now. Also, David Karofsky looks like a bull mated with a gorilla and he is their unfortunate offspring. Definitely no." I picked at the bed spread speculatively. "Plus, he's a total douche. I remember how much shit he gave you last year."

"Oh, yes," Quinn said, her eyes gaining a faraway look. "My first ever slushie."

"Who knew that shit was so fucking demoralizing?" I said with genuine feeling. "I probably wouldn't have iceberg'd Berry as often if I had known." I paused. "Well, no. Scratch that. I probably still would have." I mulled the thought over for a moment. "But not Tina. No, I feel bad, knowing how often I drenched her before joining New Directions." A satisfied nod.

"One of the many perks of attending a snooty private school," Quinn said to me, "At least they don't have slushie machines."

"Agreed."

Quinn sighed, running her fingers through her faded pink hair. It was starting to look like it needed to be touched up, but that was because the pink was the washout kind. "This is the dilemma, Santana," She said finally. "I'm not going to ditch Sam, Finn, and Rachel. But I'm not going to let you wander around Lima alone on a Saturday. So you have to bite the bullet and invite another one of our friends to go to the mall with us."

I rolled my eyes. "You're two for two, Blondie, because absolutely _no way _am I stepping one foot in that mall. That's where Barftie is going to be." I made a fake gagging noise. "Way too soon for me to see them in their post-coital bliss."

Quinn scrunched her face up at me, like I was some difficult problem that she was honor bound to solve. I sighed, because she was just too cute with that look on her face. "Will it satisfy you if I offer to go shopping with Mercedes, somewhere _far, far_ away from the mall?"

Quinn smiled. "Yes."

I grabbed my phone and began texting. "Okay, but you can't leave me alone with Aretha all day," I told her, warningly. "She's all right. But again, in small doses. We're both too gangster to be around each other for very long."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Santana, you are so far from _gangster_ that you're almost _hipster._"

"What!" I looked at her, scandalized. "_No hay manera, princesa_. I spent summers in Lima Heights Adjacent with mi abuela, she's not a nice lady. I sometimes even hide razor blades in my weave."

Quinn laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "I never realized how comedic you are."

"No comedy here, babe," I said, glancing back down at my phone. "Just pure truth."

**Xxxx**

I was standing with Mercedes in front of a display of shoes, trying to figure out if I could successfully shove that pair of knee high gold pumps into my bag before the middle aged attendant returned in order to "help us," though I was pretty sure she was just hanging around because I'm Hispanic and Mercedes is black, so of course we're going to shoplift. Well_, I_ fully intended to, but that didn't stop her from being utterly racist for _assuming_ it.

Kurt had tagged along, which I sincerely wasn't happy about, because he's nearly as annoying as Rachel Berry, and he made me want to stab myself in the ears with a screwdriver to shut up the sound of his prissy whining. Seriously, Hummel? My great aunt Rosa has more _cojones_ than you, and she's 87. I blinked, then realized Tia Rosa actually has a _beard_, something that was far out of reach of Kurt, and the comparison was less amusing and more disturbing, even in my head.

"So, Santana," Kurt said, cautiously, thumbing through a display rack that had hideous sweaters and scarfs. I scowled at him. "How do you like your new school?"

"It's an estrogen overload, Clay Aiken," I said, distractedly, because Mercedes was uncovering another set of gorgeous pumps from the shoe boxes in front of us. "You'd fit right in."

Mercedes laughed a little bit. "Girl, how do you handle that? I mean, no boys _at all?_"

Kurt arched one finely waxed eyebrow. "Sounds like a mix between a dream come true and my own personal nightmare."

I smirked, then shrugged. "It's not so bad. Quinn and I are roommates, so it's not as hard as it could be. We have a lot of classes together."

Mercedes shook her head slowly. "No, it sounds terrible. I mean, no boys, _at all,_ you live the same place you go to school, and almost nonstop contact with Quinn." She huffed out a laugh. "I lived with Quinn once, remember? Granted, she was pregnant then, but it wasn't a piece of cake. And we didn't even share a room."

I smiled at her, because it _had_ been really nice of Mercedes to let Quinn live with her during the last trimester of her pregnancy. "Quinn is actually kind of useful to have around. She knows how to do all kinds of beneficial tasks, like fold laundry and make beds." I made a grimace. "That's what cleaning ladies are for, _y soy demasiada bonita aprender._" I smiled sweetly to their blank and confused faces.

"I was right here for that, and even I'm not sure if you were complimenting Quinn or insulting her," Kurt said, as if in a daze. "Brava."

I smirked at him, patting him gently on his cherubic cheek. "That's okay, Hummel. One day you will graduate from Nancy Fairy Class, and join the real world of adult topics."

Mercedes just laughed. "It's just not the same around here without you, Satan."

I flashed her a grin, then layered my arm through hers, guiding us towards the door of the department store. "Of course it isn't. But don't worry, Auntie Tana will drop back in from time to time, to remind you all how much you missed me."

Kurt rolled his eyes and issued a stage sigh.

Mercedes checked her phone as we were leaving, and then tapped it forcefully. "Sam wants us to meet him and everyone at Breadstix. He says they already called to reserve a booth." She flashed a toothy smile, and I returned it with unabashed enthusiasm. Besides me, I don't know anybody else who loves Breadstix like Mercedes.

"Oh, it's 'bout to get reals up in here, y'all," I said to them as we approached Kurt's giant black SUV. "I am going through Breadstix withdrawals. You all might want to steel yourself for the spectacle you are about to witness."

Mercedes laughed, climbing into the front seat, and I took the back. I grinned, pulling open my purse, and showed Mercedes the earrings I had filched, along with a bottle of that cologne Kurt had been trying not to act like he wanted, because I was pretty sure he's too poor to afford it. "Here, now don't ever say I never gave you anything."

Kurt looked absolutely horrified. "Oh my god, Santana, did you _steal_ that?"

I chuckled. "You're so observant, Kurt, I don't know how anything gets by you."

"Santana," Mercedes said with more severity in her tone. "You have money. _Why_ would you steal anything?"

I quirked a brow at her, because her tone was edging in close to sanctimonious, and I really didn't want to have to give her a beat down right before I ate. "It's not about money, Wheezy," I said, and shrugged, making to tuck the earrings and cologne back into my purse.

"Uh, well! I guess that's cool. You know," Mercedes said, and I just smiled at her knowingly and then handed the earrings over.

"What about you, Kurt? You okay with accepting stolen merchandise?"

Kurt thought it over a minute, and then glanced at the proffered bottle of cologne through his rearview mirror. He sighed. "I will accept your gift, Santana, but only because it's like watching a dog walk on its hind legs to see you be even remotely nice to me. I need a momento."

I chuckled. "Whatever gets you through the night."

We pulled into Breadstix and I hopped out of the car. I was wearing a knee-length jean skirt with a black top and a matching jacket. My hair was curled and styled and held immaculately in place with plenty of product, and I knew I looked good. I caught some stocking boy ogling me back at the store.

As we walked into the restaurant, I brushed past the hostess, making a beeline for the huge circular booth that already had Finn, Rachel, Sam, and Quinn in it, in that order. I smiled a bright hello at them and then slid in beside Quinn, not quite able to hide the mischievous smirk I planted on my face. It had been several hours since I'd seen the blond, and the only thing I could think about was that ridiculous wager she made with me. I was so totally going to give her a little taste of what she was in for tonight. "Hey there, Ken and Barbie," I said, then inclined my head to Rachel and Finn, not entirely able to hide the look of sheer disgust I had on my face. "Shamoo. Hobbit."

Rachel, for her credit, only furrowed her brow at me and attempted to reign in on whatever annoying thing she was going to say. "Hello Santana. It's nice to see you again."

I just raised a brow at her because I didn't believe _that_ for a second. "Rachel, it's okay, I know you're just being nice to me because you think I'm a minority that needs your help because I'm less fortunate than you. I'm sorry to be the one to break it to you, but if I had a face like yours, I'd probably go around with a hockey mask on. So don't do me any favors." I nodded at her with mock empathy.

"Wow!" Sam said, his eyebrows raised. "Uh, well, that was.. hmm."

Quinn just smiled at him, and it made me scowl a tiny bit. "Don't look Rachel directly in the eye," I told him solemnly. "She's got the powers of Medusa. She'll probably try to spruce up her statue collection. I'm sure it's sadly lacking any human-fish hybrids."

Sam just frowned at this, making a decidedly dopey face. Quinn nudged me hard in the ribs. I jumped, then lifted a hand to rub at the sore spot.

"Santana," Rachel said, perplexed. "I really want to know whatever it is I did to offend you. I'm ready to apologize for it right now if it's some kind of misunderstanding-"

"Rachel!" I stopped her mid-sentence, and she jumped. "You have _officially_ fulfilled your speaking quota while around me. No, no!" I told her, lifting a finger and pointing towards the ceiling. "Shh. If you keep talking, the sound is going to draw sailors to their doom. Let's have quiet time, Rachel."

Rachel huffed, crossed her arms over her chest, and looked down at the menu. Finn, wisely, decided to say nothing.

Kurt and Mercedes finally made their way over, and shuffled into the booth, wedging me between Mercedes and Quinn, while Kurt sat at the very edge.

The waitress brought everyone their drinks and took everyone's order, and after that I decided to stop torturing Rachel, at least for a little bit. Quinn was repeatedly jabbing me in the ribs, in the exact same spot, every time I made a sardonic comment, and it was really starting to hurt. I glared at her but she pretended not to notice, all sunshine and smiles for her Boy Wonder. Rachel droned on and on about glee club and their set list for sectionals, and Kurt talked about some meaningless fashion show coming up. Mercedes and I exchanged a glance, because I knew she was almost as bored as I was.

Well, she didn't have the option of entertaining herself with one very hot blond – even if Quinn _did_ dress like one of those women from a religious compound who had never been inside a clothing store other than WalMart – so my heart went out to her. Just a little bit. I waited until Quinn was distracted by the words pouring out of Sam's disproportionately huge mouth before I began. I laid my right hand against her thigh, while my left dabbled with my silverware and my soda nonchalantly. I felt her shift in her seat, but I kept staring at something particularly interesting across the restaurant, not meeting her gaze.

I began to slowly, slowly, inch up the hem of her dress, a small, innocent smile quirking my lips every time she turned her distressed stare towards my face. I began to trace my fingertips slowly against her bare thigh, and for a moment she locked eyes with me, and I had to bite back a chuckle at the alarm I saw. It gave me a heady rush to be in control, and so able to throw her off kilter, right in plain sight.

She tried to ignore me, and even reached down to pinch my thigh with her own hand, but she was distracted both by trying to keep up appearances and by the slow, soft trails I was making up and down her leg with just my fingertips. I reached down with my opposite hand and caught her wrist easily, smiling blandly at whatever Kurt was blathering on about. I felt Quinn's thigh twitch and I caught the subtle hitch in her voice when she replied to a direct question. It made me grin like the Cheshire cat.

I grazed my fingernail against her skin and she jumped, but tried played it off as a simple body shift. I did a quick inventory of everyone's face, and I knew they didn't suspect anything. A glance at Quinn confirmed what my instincts were telling me – her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were glazing over, the pupils dialating. She kept biting her lip and looking down at the table, as if the wood grain was of utmost interest to her. I was working my way up higher on her thigh, occasionally increasing the pressure or intensifying the sensation with the scrape of a nail, when suddenly Quinn locked her thighs together and wrenched her wrist out from my grasp, glaring at me. I snickered, raising my eyebrows at her, but didn't remove my trapped hand. I looked like the cat who ate the canary.

The waitress brought us our food, and I began the demand for Breadstix early, because we were a large table and the bread sticks here are the only carbs I ever officially allow myself. I behaved myself while we ate, because Quinn looked like she was ready to slap me or jump me, and since there was only a fifty/fifty chance of that working out in my favor, I decided to let her cool off. That didn't stop me from edging in as close to her as possible, pressing my own hip and thigh against her, practically sitting on her lap. She was disconcerted but trying hard to play it off. It was delicious to watch.

After the first round of plates were cleared away and I was preparing to launch my second attack, I was burst out of my hazy seduction master plan by a voice that still had the ability to make my heart stutter, though now it did that and flopped in panic, because I felt like I was a kid with my hand caught in the cookie jar.

"Santana!" Brittany said brightly, walking by our booth. She smiled, and Artie rolled up beside her. She was wearing a long green dress and her hair was done in an elaborate up-do, diamond earrings winking at her ears. She looked sophisticated and more mature, somehow. "Everyone!" She said by way of greeting to everybody else. They all smiled and said hello.

I just locked eyes with her, and I could feel the fire in my cheeks. I ignored Quinn's pointed eyebrow raise and slowly, ever so slowly, shifted away from her.

"I didn't know you guys were all here, or we would have come sooner," Artie said, oblivious to the silent conversation Brittany and I were having over the table. I think most people were either unaware or just didn't care, but I knew Quinn was watching it. And the look on her face was less than pleased.

"Yeah, why didn't you tell me?" Brittany directed it to nobody in particular, but her eyes were glued to mine. I swallowed, then lifted a brow and looked briefly at Wheels. She sagged a little bit, the smile in her face dimming a tad. "Oh. I see."

Everyone else was looking around at each other, trying to catch whatever they missed.

"It's okay, Britt," Quinn said brightly. "You two are on a date, right? You look really pretty."

Britt smiled at that, tugging at the tight green material that hugged her body. "Yeah, I just got this dress, isn't it perfect?"

I rolled my eyes, because I knew what Quinn was doing. She was so deft at it that maybe nobody else would notice, but I was wising up to her. She was both pointing out that Brittany had not been invited but making her cheer up by complimenting her clothes. It was borderline sneaky-mean, and I didn't like it.

Artie looked up at Brittany, and the sight was almost comical, because Britt was wearing silver strapy stilettos and it made her tower over him even more. They looked like one of those weird off-kilter couples that always made you wonder just exactly _how_ they managed to have sex, since their bodies were so utterly different. My stomach roiled at the thought, and I put my napkin down on top of my plate. I was done eating.

"Well, we have to go, we have a table waiting," Artie said, in his quavering voice, that couldn't decide whether it was being demanding or simpering. Brittany reluctantly turned with him to go, but flashed me one final look over her shoulder.

I was completely silent in the car ride back to Quinn's house, because I knew what was coming. She looked like a mad pixie queen the rest of the night, her face tight and pinched, her eyes hot and angry. We hadn't stayed very long after Brittany and Artie arrived, but it was uncomfortable, at least for me. I could feel the wall of irritation coming off of her like it was a tangible force, and I really wasn't looking forward to what was about to happen when we were alone.

Quinn didn't say anything, just fumed mutely, and for the first time ever, I felt myself pitying poor Finn and Puck for what they had had to go through as Quinn's official boyfriend (or, in Puck's case, her baby daddy). Yikes. How could somebody be so enraged that fire practically shot out of their ears, but so controlled that you could basically feel the ice in the room? Quinn was a little scary like this, and that's coming from me.

I knew I'd stepped in it and so I did my best to not draw attention to myself, even as we reached her house and made the wordless trip to her room. I was just sitting down my bag and turning to her, the tension in my body echoing that of a person afraid that they are about to be rushed by a bull, when she just walked up to me, grabbed my head in between her hands, and pulled my face into a kiss.

**A/N:** Really sorry to leave it like that, guys, but this is the longest chapter I've written and I have to break it up somewhere. I didn't plan to write the other characters very much, but this all just came to me, so I hope I'm doing a good job keeping them in character. I know some of my Santana lines are lame, but I'm not as spitefully brilliant as the Glee writers. Let me know whatcha think!


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **I'm still really flattered by everyone who is reading and reviewing, so thank you guys! It gives me motivation to keep going as quickly as I am. I'm squeezing this chapter in between babysitting my niece and karaoke with my friends tonight, so feel special.

Chapter 9

I stared down at my cell phone with genuine distress. Brittany had texted me last night before she went to sleep, asking what movie and what time we were going today. I rubbed my fingertips over my forehead, massaging the slight pain that was building behind my brow. Just thinking about this was giving me a headache.

See, here's the thing – I didn't want to see Brittany. I was really trying to push her from my mind. I was still wrapped up in the smell and feel of Quinn, since we had slept with limbs intertwined and my head resting on her chest, and for once, she hadn't gotten out of bed before me. Instead, when I woke, she was laying there, threading her fingers through my hair and staring at the ceiling. It had been strange and sweet, and evoked emotions that I was pushing aside for simplicity's sake. Quinn and I had evolved to a level of comfort with each other that cuddling wasn't strange anymore. Well, at least it wasn't for her – she didn't seem to hesitate to dive in, wrapping herself around me. I still felt a little awkward, because, come in, this is _Quinn,_ but I can't deny that there's something basically soothing about being held while you sleep.

"What's that?" Quinn murmured against my hair. She sounded slurred and a little bit drugged, like she was drifting in and out of sleep.

"Brittany." I said, because there wasn't a point in hiding it. Quinn stirred a bit, but then seemed to decide against it. She just breathed out a tiny sigh.

"She wants to go to a movie today."

"What movie?"

I frowned. "I don't know. I don't think I'm going."

Quinn seemed to perk up a little at this, shifting herself so she could angle her head to see my face. I glanced up at her, and, predictably, her face was a mask of indifference. "Why not?

I shrugged, scrolling my thumb through my phone absently. It was something I did to buy time when I didn't know what to say. "Because of Artie. Because of you." It surprised me how totally honest those statements were, but strangely, I realized Quinn was someone I could be honest with. It was a weird realization – if anyone had asked me a year ago that I'd be in a secret-sharing, truth-revealing, cuddle-session relationship with Quinn, at any time in my life, much less a year later, I would have laughed and suggested that they needed to be committed. Yet here we are.

Quinn moved as if she wanted out from underneath me, but I pressed my arms around her, stilling her motions. I was beginning to realize that when Quinn wanted to talk about hard things, she craved physical distance, because it helped her to keep that stone mask in place. I frowned at her a little. _I told you something true, now it's your turn, Q._

Quinn stopped running her hand through my hair and let out a heavy sigh, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. "This is too complicated."

_Tell me about it, Tinkerbell_, I thought, but didn't say. After last night, what exactly were we? Not together. I locked my jaw against the raw panic that formed in my throat and gut when I thought about the idea of _being_ with Quinn, or Brittany, or any girl. No, no, that definitely isn't Santana Lopez's M.O. I can make out with girls, I can even fool around with them, but I certainly do not _date_ them.

I sighed, because the melancholy mood was weighing on me. I needed to change this, and quickly, or Quinn would be quiet and brooding all day and I'd be pissy. Just really not a good combination, if you ask me – or any sane person.

I shifted, lifting my body up, and then quickly slid my leg over her, so that I was straddling her midsection. I grinned at the stunned look on her face. Anytime I solicited that reaction from Quinn it felt like a small victory. I was wearing a white wife beater and pink spandex-y type shorts. Quinn was wearing a t-shirt and underwear, which suited me just fine. I began rubbing my palms against her ribcage on both sides, over the shirt at first. I lifted an eyebrow when I noticed her nipples were hard, and I wasn't even touching her skin.

Quinn was fighting her reaction, and it was really pretty cute to watch. She was simply looking at me, trying to portray boredom – but her face was slowly flushing, and her breath was trembling slightly in her chest.

"It doesn't have to be." I told her, because it didn't. Sex is just sex, after all – it's always just been that.

Quinn shook her head, slightly, then bit her lip. I moved my hands nonstop, up, down, up, down, catching the loose fabric of the shirt and drawing it up slowly to reveal her flat stomach. I dipped my eyes down to take in the sight, then trailed my eyes back up her body.

"I don't want you to not do things with Brittany because of me," Quinn said quietly, and though she was fighting off arousal, there was real emotion in her voice too. I quirked an eyebrow.

"That's incredibly wanky of you, Quinn, but you're enough woman for me at the moment." I smiled at her, because I knew she hadn't meant it that way. "Plus, like I want Professor X's sloppy seconds? No way."

The laugh escaped Quinn in a ragged, breathy gasp. "No, I mean.. things like, movies." She shifted beneath me, and that ignited a spark in my center. I grinned at her, pressing down on her slightly, both because it felt good and I knew it'd make her squirm more. I was having too much fun.

What is it about sexy time with girls that was so much more _exciting_ than with boys? It was something I had been wondering about ever since that first exploratory night with Brittany, and had chalked it up to our extraordinary magnetism. Now, though, with Quinn shifting beneath me, biting her lip and suppressing the urge to writhe, I had to face the fact that I just really enjoyed this way more than any kind of interaction with males. Weird.

I started to slide my nails gently against her skin, trickling over her sides and then over her lower stomach. Quinn was holding her breath, probably to avoid panting. I smirked at her, because I knew I was winning our bet right now. If I wanted to, I could probably rip her underwear off and plunge my fingers into her, and I doubt she'd even protest.

Something on my face must have gave away that thought, because Quinn reached down and grabbed both of my hands with hers, stopping me. I frowned at her, and she just shook her head no, once. "Listen to me, Santana," Quinn said, and then I realized our conversation wasn't over.

I scowled, shifting my weight backwards a bit, so that I wasn't leaning over her. "All right, I'm listening."

I sighed, running her fingers through her own hair, trying to collect her thoughts. "This thing between us shouldn't interfere with.. well, anything," Quinn said. But she wouldn't quite look at me. Her voice was saying one thing but her face was saying another, because she had her walls back up again and I was learning that it meant something when that happened. Not exactly what, yet, but I knew I'd figure it out eventually.

"Who says it's interfering?" I shrugged, considered leaning down to kiss her, but thought against it. Quinn had a queer look in her eye, like maybe she wanted to cry or something.

"Go to the movies with Brittany." It wasn't a question, it was more like a command. My eyebrows flew up.

"Whoa now, Goldilocks. Don't try to get all bossy with me." Then I smirked. "Unless _that's_ what you're in to." Quinn blinked at me. "I'll do whatever I want, no input from you necessary."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Big surprise there."

I chuckled, but it didn't feel sincere. This was really bothering her, for some reason I couldn't pinpoint. "Well, _you_ can do whatever _you_ want without my input too, you know," I said, figuring that was it. What, like she needed my permission?

Quinn scowled. "Oh, I know." A pause. "But maybe we should have a full disclosure rule or something. Just in case.. I don't know, just to stop it from being weird."

I tilted my head at her. "What, you planning on jumping into the sack with Joy when we get back to Morrow?" I smirked. "Why don't we just agree to non-exclusivity and leave it there?"

Quinn sighed again. It made me feel like I was being incredibly dense, and she was having to explain her point over and over again but I just wasn't getting it. Okay, that definitely killed my horse. I lifted my leg and slid off of her, sitting cross-legged on the bedspread next to her. I picked up her hand and held it in mine, giving it a small squeeze.

"Santana, I know that sex isn't a big deal for you." She began, avoiding my gaze. "But it is for me. You know how many people I've had sex with, exactly? One."

My jaw dropped. "What? _Me no creo_." All the sudden, the room felt warm and close, and it was hard to breathe. I had to fight the urge to drop her hand and back away from her. It was like she had told me she had some kind of disease.

"Yeah," Quinn agreed, though I doubt her rudimentary Spanish was good enough to pick up on what I said.

I closed my eyes slowly, took a breath, and opened them. "Puck is terrible at sex, Quinn. He's selfish. He has no idea what to do with a vagina."

Quinn smirked despite herself, but her eyes were fixed on a point somewhere to the left of my face. "He got it figured out enough to knock me up."

I groaned. "Any functioning baboon can do that." I shifted closer to her, studying her face. "This puts a lot more pressure on me to preform, you know." I said it to make her laugh. It worked.

"For some reason, I don't think you're going to have a problem." Quinn flashed me a knowing grin. It made my stomach tighten with longing.

"Listen here, Blondie," I told her with severity, "You have got some _wicked_ naughty looks, you know that? Stop doing that." I shook an imposing finger at her. It drew out another sunny smile, and I was glad.

"Anyway," I said, trying to lighten the mood. "That's okay. If you want, I'll let you know if I'm going to be doing the dirty with anybody else." It was a concession, but it wasn't a strange one to me. Brittany and I had had the same arrangement for the last year.

Quinn chuckled. "All right, I guess. This is so weird. I've never made any sex pacts before."

I rolled my eyes. "You haven't properly lived, Quinn."

"We have different views on that." Quinn said, sitting up. Her hair was mussed and tangled, though it still looked way better than mine did. If I didn't think I'd somehow end up looking like Wanda Sykes, I might consider cutting my hair short. Well, probably not.

"So, what movie are you going to see?" Quinn asked again, shifting off the bed. I lifted myself then sat back on my knees, fishing around for my phone among the covers where I had discarded it. We were in eerily similar positions to what we'd been in yesterday when that wager was placed. I watched her wander around her room, moving dirty clothes to a laundry basket, picking up her mascara and eyeliner speculatively. It seemed like she wanted to be doing something but had nothing better to do than fiddle with her room.

I shook my head. Part of me was torn, because I've _never_ broken plans with Brittany of my own accord. But another part of my mind was completely made up, because all I could think about was the girl in front of me, and how it was like I could see her fully one moment, and the next it was like looking at a stranger. Something about her made me want to dive in and discover every hidden depth.

I crinkled my nose at my own musing, because even to _me_ that sounded like some cheesy romance novel line mixed with smut.

I tapped onto Brittany's message bubble, thumb gliding over the screen. –_I have to go back to Atherton early, Britt. Sorry. We'll catch a movie next time._

It took only a few moments to get a response. –_y?_

I sighed and locked my jaw against the twinge of pain I felt. –_I forgot I have a test tomorrow I have to study for. I'm sorry._

It wasn't a lie, exactly. I did have a test on Monday, but I didn't need to study.

-_I miss u, Santana. I wish we cudv spnt more tim 2gthr._

Oh, god. I winced. Was it just going to be my lot in life to have my heart strangled by pretty blondes?

I glanced up at Quinn, who was quietly organizing her closet, though it was already impeccably organized. "Britt can't make it. So you're stuck with me all day."

Quinn looked at me, arching an eyebrow as if she didn't fully buy it, but then decided to let it go. "So, what do you want to do, then?"

I shrugged. "I can't think of anything. I guess we could head back."

Quinn flashed her eyes at me, in genuine shock. "I thought I was going to have to drag you, kicking and screaming, back to Atherton."

I smiled at her, tilting my head. "I thought that, too."

Quinn's face folded into a puzzled expression, pausing mid-motion of hanging up a pink sweater.

My smile died, because the look on her face made me feel like I had said something wrong. I was acutely aware of how _sappy_ that line sounded, and I had to swallow. _What the shit, Lopez,_ I scolded myself, and then just widened my eyes at Quinn.

Quinn cleared her throat awkwardly. "Uh, do you want to see your parents before we go..?"

I shook my head violently. "You're crazy. My father would probably have _another_ heart attack if he knew I was back here. He banished me, remember?" I flashed a sardonic smile at her. "I don't think he'd even know how to deal with the defiance of it."

Quinn left her closet alone and then began packing our things. I felt a little bit like I should help her, but she was so swift and sure with her motions I felt like I'd be getting in the way. Besides, do _you_ know how to fold a tank top? I sure don't. Quinn had mystical knowledge, of which I was not privy to.

I climbed down from Quinn's bed and approached the mirror above her dresser, assessing myself. I let out a noise that was dangerously close to a squawk. "Quinn!"

Her head darted around, alarmed. "What?"

"What the fuck is _this, _Fabray?" I said, accusingly, turning to her with a manicured nail pointing at my neck. There was a huge hickey, the color of an angry rash. I saw a multitude of emotions flit across Quinn's face, from triumph, to amusement, to coyness, and then settle on a demure look of repentance.

"I'm really sorry, Santana," She said, her tone meek. I wasn't buying it. I had caught the glimpse of wicked enjoyment that flitted across her features.

"No, sorry isn't gonna cut it, Fabray," I told her, doing my best to sound pissed. Which wasn't hard, because I was _genuinely_ pissed off – I couldn't even remember the last time I had a hickey on my neck – but she looked so adorable with her big green eyes and her sorrowful expression.

I was getting ready to launch into some self-righteous tirade before she transformed directly in front of my eyes. It was like magic. One minute, she was shy and contrite, the next.. it was as if she was possessed by an alternate Quinn, one that knew all the tricks to get my motor revving. She flashed me a grin that had her dimples winking out, then approached me, her hands clasped behind her back. Something about her eyes and the way she was looking at me had my stomach clenching in tight knots and a wave of pure heat erupting up and down my skin.

"Want me to kiss it better for you?" She said quietly, and my eyes grew wide. She stepped close, tilting her head slightly, before inching down and rubbing her lips softly against the spot on my neck. It made the breath hitch in my throat and I released a strangled sound, somewhere between a grunt and a moan.

She wasn't touching me anywhere else except for the feather-light pressure of her lips against my neck, and I felt like I was going to explode from the tension that was coiling in my gut and tugging persistently at my center. My butt was pressed against the dresser, with my hands clenched on the hard wood, squeezing it, to stop them from ripping Quinn's t-shirt off. She hummed, and the vibration sent shivers down my spine. I tilted my head back, exposing more of my neck, silently begging her to keep going.

I felt her lips smile against me, and if I wasn't paralyzed by desire I might have shoved her for that decidedly arrogant look. But she obliged me, dragging her tongue across the pulse that was hammering. "Fuck," I muttered, doing my best to remain absolutely still. I knew if I started touching her I would completely lose it. Quinn was being agonizingly slow, kissing delicately here and there, dragging her soft, wet tongue along the sensitive skin of my neck. She was working her way up to my ear, and she pressed a warm, wet kiss to that blinding bundle of nerves. "Better?" She whispered.

I groaned, and as if that was all she was waiting for, she leaned back into my neck and then parted her lips to nip, delicately, at it.

I lost it once I felt the sharp pressure of her teeth. My hands ripped away from the dresser and wrapped into her hair, yanking her head away from my neck and crashing our lips together. Our tongues met, and I dived into the kiss because I was starving for her. My fingers tensed in her hair, controlling the angle of the kiss, and I lifted back to nip at her lower lip. I had began propelling us towards the bed, because I wanted to be on top of her, _now,_ ridding her of all those damnable clothes that hid her body from me. We bumped into the side of the bed and I pushed us down, sucking on her lower lip when we hit the mattress. With my hands still buried in her hair, I tugged her head aside, and then bit at her neck, dragging my mouth against it savagely.

Her breathing was ragged, and her hands were fisted in my shirt tightly, and she was making the most amazing noises. I thought, deliriously, that just _listening_ to her was probably one of the sexiest things I'd ever experienced. I lifted my head and tilted my body away from her, fully intending to drag her shirt off.

Her face was flushed and her eyes were glittering, but there was an unmistakable look of victory etched into her features. It made me pause. As if swimming through a fog, I realized what was going on her.

"Damn it!" I swore, and tore myself off of her, stalking towards the dresser.

She laughed, lifting herself up with one hand. "What's wrong, Santana?" Her tone was coy and teasing. "Something bothering you?"

I grunted, picking up a stuffed teddy bear she had sitting on her dresser, and squeezed it. I wanted to rip it in half. My body was singing with arousal, and the juncture between my legs was begging for pressure. It was like Quinn was a drug, and my body was jonesing for it.

I kept my back to her, because if I looked at her, I knew I'd be toast.

Quinn's smirk was evident in her tone. "Not as easy as you thought it would be, is it?"

I almost growled at her, because I still wasn't ready to look or even really say anything.

"You keep this up, Blondie," I managed, finally, "And I'm going to kill you before this is over."

Quinn laughed. Even _that_, as innocent as it was, made me shudder. Every nerve in my body was raw and aching.

"You need to learn some self-control," Quinn told me with haughty arrogance. I scowled. I felt something tossed against me and then fall, and I turned to look. It was a pair of my underwear.

"I bet you need to change," Quinn said, sweetly.

**A/N:** I know it's really short, but I'm really pressed for time today. It's probably got more errors than usual because, literally, I wrote this and now I have to go get ready. Hope you liked the shameless smut. ;)


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Somebody asked me how long I thought this was going to be.. my answer: I have no frigging clue. I'm starting to think I should have written an outline or something, because right now I just have a collection of thoughts for scenes and an eventual conclusion, but haven't made up my mind about it yet. It took 9 chapters to get through a week and I sort of want to go the whole school year, but that's either going to turn this into a novel or require a lot of skipping around, and right now I'm undecided which way it'll go.

Also, my Brittana is showing in this chapter, I apologize. Kind of, but not really.

**Chapter 10**

Tuesday night. I was sitting on my bed, propped up by a couple pillows, flipping through a magazine. Quinn was sitting opposite me, with my foot resting on her knee. She was frowning in concentration, applying an autumnal shade of orange to my toes.

"How exactly did you talk me into this, again?" She asked, and I glanced up. I offered her my sweetest, most charming smile, and she just tilted her head.

"I told you, Quinn. Some of us were more privileged than others growing up. I can't help it, I'm like an orphaned Haitian baby." I shrugged helplessly at her. "Is it _my_ fault I never learned how to paint my own toe nails? Is it _my _fault my mother never took the time to teach me how to adequately buff and polish? No, she just threw me at a nail salon every other week since I grew boobs." I sighed dramatically. "It's kind of tragic if you think about it. I never had the experience of bonding with my mother. I feel really neglected."

Quinn rolled her eyes but she couldn't quite suppress a smirk. "You poor, pitiful thing."

I wiggled my toes at her. "I'm honestly amazed that you know how to do it. I thought, for a long time, that only Chinese women possessed the ability to properly apply nail polish. But you're doing a good job," I added, reassuringly, because she frowned down at my toes.

"Yeah, yeah. You're so helpless." Quinn said it a little wonderingly, like it came as a bit of a shock.

"Quinn, because I lack the knowledge of how to preform menial tasks does not make me _helpless._" I flipped the page in my magazine. "After all, there's always someone, somewhere, who will know how to do it, and I'll pay them."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "It's ridiculous, Santana. You're also a slob. It's like living with a child."

I quirked a brow at her. "Quinn. I have a cleaning lady. We went over this."

Quinn huffed. "Yes, and I reiterate: I _am not your cleaning lady._ Therefore, since Rosa isn't here—"

"Her name is Danika, and I think that's a little racist of you—"

"—Whatever, since she isn't here, you need to learn how to clean up your own mess."

I looked at Quinn with my lips tilted slightly down, an expression I learned had an assuaging effect on her. It was partway between a pout and a frown, and it usually softened her. Not this time. She kept her face fixed in an expression of incredulity and slight disdain, and something else which I could only describe as her "mommy look."

I huffed, slapping the magazine closed. "Quinn, I _said_ that I'll pay you. Really. I'm not joking. My dad upped my monthly allowance since I'm not there for Danika to clean up after. My mom also said she'd give me money to get my nails and hair did." I nodded.

Quinn scrunched her nose at me, then leaned down to blow on my toes. It caused little unexpected sparks to jolt up my feet and twitch along the nerves located in my midsection. I widened my eyes with surprise. "That never happens whenever Ming-na does that," I muttered.

"What?" Quinn said, distractedly.

"Oh, uh, nothing." I scowled down at the magazine.

"You're really just going to have to learn how to take care of yourself," Quinn said into the silence, and I groaned. Why was Quinn so damnably persistent in her thinking? I'm too used to Brittany flitting from topic to topic like a hummingbird. I guess I sort of picked up on it, because clearly I change subjects enough to make Quinn uncomfortable. I think she probably thinks I'm just dodging them – and maybe sometimes I am – but generally I do it without thinking about it.

"Quinn," I said, pleadingly. She cut me off.

"No excuses, Santana!" She glared at me and switched to the second foot. "It's kind of pathetic, you're what, sixteen? And you don't even know how to fold a towel." She gave me a pitying look. "These are basic tasks you'll need to survive in the world. I bet even Brittany knows how to do more stuff than you."

I frowned. "Yeah, she does. But Quinn, it's because she _had_ to learn how to do that stuff to survive. I'm still unsure how she can get my microwave to work, honestly, but she does it without fail." I shrugged, crossing my arms over my chest. "There's something I want to talk to you about."

Quinn raised a brow, glancing up from the toe she was currently working on, and met my eyes levelly. "Yeah?"

"Um, well, this is probably just going to give you more reason to think that you're right.." I sighed, glancing around the room. "Well, I'm out of underwear. It's kind of a code red situation. I need my laundry done."

Quinn just stared at me, slightly baffled. "Why don't you go do it, then?"

I stared back at her. "Sorry, Blondie, but not only do I have no idea where the laundry room is, I also have no idea how those giant contraptions work. They sort of look like ovens, but there's no burners.. and just.." I shrugged helplessly.

Quinn closed her eyes, took a deep breath, let it out, then opened them. "Santana. There is something wrong with you."

I laughed, because the look of sheer disbelief mixed with slight horror on Quinn's face was pretty funny. "Just show me how to do it. And how to fold the clothes."

Quinn scowled, running the edge of her nail along the cuticle of my pinky toe to wick away the excess polish. She leaned down to blow again and I had to resist the urge to curl my toes and roll my eyes in the back of my head.

"All right, I'll help you do your laundry. Once. And after that, we're going to finish unpacking all your bags."

I groaned. "Quinn, I told you, I'm fine with living out of duffle bags. I barely know how to hang a shirt on a hanger, I have no idea how to hang up skirts. Danika always just gives them to me already ready."

"You might be fine with it, but I'm not! This mess is driving me crazy!" Quinn had a weird look on her face, and I paused a moment to examine her, and then the room.

Okay, so it was a little messy. But not too bad. Her side was impeccable, everything neatly done, even down the blankets on the bed being folded and creased. My side had knick-knacks strewn across my computer desk, random socks and pens and wads of paper scattered along the floor.

"Quinn, I'm beginning to think you might have a slight case of the crazies, a la Emma Pillsbury."

She squinted at me, and I had to fight down the urge to back away quickly. Too bad I was already pressed up against the wall, and she had ahold of my foot.. because whenever Quinn gets that dangerous look, I sort of feel like she's about to skin somebody.

"Okay, okay," I said, holding my hands up in front of me. "I'll clean it up. I'll learn all those peasant tasks, like doing laundry and folding clothes. I'll even try figure out how to work a vacuum cleaner." I winced. "But don't expect me to graduate to even more degrading chores like cleaning the bathroom. Blech."

Quinn appeared satisfied with our compromise, because she leaned back and looked around, seeming to collect her thoughts. "Oh, and microwaves are _easy_, Santana."

"Not mine!" I replied defensively. "It's gigantic, and there's like fifty buttons. Sometimes when you bush a button, nothing happens.. then other times if you push _the exact same button_ it comes on. It's possessed." I didn't explain that Brittany knew how to work every dang combination of settings on the thing. I had almost cried once because I wanted to eat a bag of popcorn and nobody was home to help me figure it out, and Britt wouldn't answer her phone. I got emotional, both due to the frustration of being outsmarted by a minor appliance and because I was PMSing, so I was giving in to the salt and carb craving, knowing Coach Sylvester would have my ass over it in the morning. After going through the emotional torture of weighing the punishment of eating the popcorn, deciding to do it anyway, and then to be thwarted by a stupid mechanical device? It really irked my nerves.

Quinn looked at me like she couldn't quite believe me, and as if she thought perhaps I was trying to pull a trick on her or something. "No one can be that inept. Really. It isn't possible."

I frowned, glancing down at my crossed arms, and shrugged, because it sort of hurt my feelings – and my pride – that Quinn was acting so amazed and stupefied by this. So what, I don't know how to turn on a washing machine? It's not like I've ever had the opportunity to do my own laundry.

When I looked back up at her she was smiling gently, and she began squeezing my foot beneath her palms, kneading her fingers into the meat of my foot. I fought back the urge to smile at her, because her words still sort of stung, but she was making up for it with the massage. Still, I didn't want her to think she was off the hook _that_ easy.

"I'm sorry," Quinn said softly, though her eyes belied her intent. Before I could think to respond, she was lifting my foot and she then pressed a gentle kiss along the instep.

"Ahh!" I squeaked and then jerked my foot away from her, rolling my toes against the combination tickle-arousal that erupted with her kiss. "I don't think so, Q."

She chuckled, and in a swift movement had my alternate foot locked in her hands. She wasn't trying to kiss it, though, she was just rubbing her fingers along the instep and bottom.

It made me crazy. "Ah, oh my god, Quinn, let go! Let _go!"_ I was dying. It tickled too much. Way, way too much. I was laughing and flailing around, but Quinn had a vice grip, and I resorted to nudging at her forcefully with my other leg, trying to pry her off my foot. I was gasping in laughter, trying to wrench myself away, but it wasn't working. She had locked my foot underneath one arm and was dancing the fingers of her opposite hand up and down the bottom of it, consumed with her own laughter.

I was getting really desperate, so I started to claw at the comforter, crawling away from her, and with swift, quick jerks, I finally dislodged my foot. I collapsed on the bed, gasping, and rolled into a tight ball, my feet aimed away from her. _"No me gusta, se mudo rubia_," I muttered into the blankets with an injured expression. When I felt the bed shift, I tensed, ready to spring away if she was going in for a second attack. My eyes were big when I looked at her, my muscles coiled.

"I only have one year of Spanish under my belt, but I'm pretty sure that wasn't flattering," Quinn said musingly, and she swept the hair away from my ear, and began to run her fingertip along the edge of it, delicately. It started the nerves in my body humming, heat flushing down my beck and face. I still scowled, refusing to give in to apology via seduction.

I swatted her hand away, annoyed.

"Oh, you big baby," Quinn said, mockingly, and then leaned down to kiss my cheek. "I won't tickle you anymore, okay? Can we stop pouting now and go do your laundry?"

I narrowed my eyes at her, thinking about it. "I suppose. But I'm still mad at you."

Quinn rolled her eyes good-naturedly, then pushed herself off my bed and helped me up, too. "I guess I'll have to just soldier on through that huge let down. I mean, how will my world turn, with Santana Lopez mad at me?" She asked with an exaggerated tone, like one of those announcers for _Guiding Light._ "I'll persevere, though."

I ignored her, digging around in my duffle bags and the piles of clothes on the floor, collecting them up in my arms.

"People only put up with you because you're hot, you know," Quinn told me in a lecturing tone. I lifted my eyebrow at her. "If you weren't, then you'd get your ass beat five times a day."

I rolled my eyes. "In case you haven't noticed, Barbie Doll, I actually do the ass beating."

Quinn laughed. "So far. One day, though, you'll come across somebody who's badder than you, and you'll have your ass handed to you." She smirked. "I'd love to see that."

"You're so kinky, Fabray."

I laughed at her shocked expression.

**Xxxx**

The next morning, I was putting the final touches on my makeup when I felt my phone buzzing against my leg from within my skirt pocket. I fished it out, raised my eyebrows at the caller ID, then clicked the answer button. "Heya, Britt. I don't have a lot of time—"

She cut me off, and her tone was hurried and emotional. "Santana, I think I'm pregnant."

My heart dropped. I slowly put down the eyeliner pencil I was using to darken my eyebrows, because my hand suddenly began to shake. "Okay, Britt. Take a deep breath. How is that possible? I took you to get the Depo shot, like, four months ago." I counted back in my head to make sure. "It should still be good for two more months."

"I know, Santana, but.. there's this stork building a nest on top of my garage. So I started to try to remember when I had my last period. I can't remember." It sounded like she was going to cry, and my heart slowly broke in half. I felt like I was standing on top of a mountain, and my gut was swirling in sick, nauseous little bubbles. Everything felt slightly out of focus, blurry, and I had to fight to breathe normally.

"It can't have been that long ago," I said, tensely. "I remember.. it was like July. Maybe." I pressed my fingers into the flesh of my forehead, as if forcing the information to appear there. "Or June. Fuck. Who were you even sleeping with in June?"

Brittany's voiced hitched over the phone, and I could tell she couldn't handle the question or the strain in my tone. "I'm sorry, Brittany," I murmured soothingly. "It's going to be okay. I promise. Please go right now to a CVS Pharmacy and pick up a pregnancy test. Pee on it in the bathroom there. Then let me know what it says." I shut my eyes, because if I didn't then I knew I'd break down.

"O-okay. Will you please text me those instructions, because I might forget." Brittany said. She sounded a little calmer, but not by much.

"It's going to be okay either way, Britt Britt," I said in a gentle tone. "Either way, we'll figure it out. So don't freak out." I remembered that whenever Brittany freaked out, she'd hide in a corner or a closet for hours, sometimes days. That just wasn't healthy – _especially_ if the test turns out positive.

I hung up the phone, set it down carefully on the marble vanity, and then slid to the floor with my back against the bathroom wall. I rested my arms on my knees and my face on my arms, taking deep, even breaths. I desperately tried to remember who Brittany might have been doing the nasty with over the summer – other than _me_, of course – but my mind was drawing a blank. Surely she'd had a period since the last time I remembered her being on it, right?

I knew that it wasn't _at all_ the same thing, but I felt a similar panic to what I might experience if I ever thought _I _was pregnant. I shut my eyes tight against that scary thought, because it was enough to think of poor Brittany like that. Me? I'd get an abortion. Hate me for it if you want, but no way could I deal with the shame of a teen pregnancy.

After a few steadying moments wedged between the floor and the wall of the bathroom, I slowly climbed to my feet, even though my legs felt like rubber. I unlocked my cell phone and tapped some easy directions to Brittany.

-_Go 2 pharmacy. Get pregnancy test. MAKE SURE IT IS A PREGNANCY TEST. Go 2 bathroom in pharmacy. READ THE TEST INSTRUCTIONS. Pee on pregnancy test. TXT ME A PIC OF THE RESULT._

I felt a little bad for "yelling" at her via text message, but this was serious business. I felt so angry and frustrated that I wasn't there with her, to help her. Part of me felt like this was going to be an agonizing experience, because what if Brittany picks up some other kind of weird pee test? Like one that tells you if your pee is normal? That one might come up positive. Or what if it's, like, an over the counter drug test or something? That one (probably) would be negative. I felt helpless and impatient. I just needed to know.

Because if it was positive, everything would change.

Brittany is more than just my friend, she's like the other half of me. Any of her problems are in turn my problems, and I sort of view it as my job to take care of her problems for her, so she has less to worry about. It's been that protective instinct that has shaped us into the friends we are today. And I just didn't know if Brittany would go through with an abortion, or even with an adoption like Quinn did.

I left the bathroom, thinking about ways I could try to _trick_ her into having an abortion.. but they were just crazy, idle thoughts. No way I'd ever do that to her.

Britt texted me back. –_Wat if im l8 for skool?_

-_Britt, omg. Pee test is way more important. Skip 1st hour if you have to._

I locked my phone and shoved it in my bra, where I'd be more likely to feel the buzz of an incoming text. Glancing around the room, I realized Quinn had already left. She'd left me a latte on my computer desk and my backpack, neatly zipped, resting on the bed beside it. I smiled idly at the gesture, grabbing the coffee and shoving my backpack onto my shoulders.

I walked down the hallway of our dormitory, completely absorbed in the thought of what Brittany was doing now. Classes start sooner at Atherton than they do at McKinley, so she still had about an hour before she had to be at school. I wondered if she was already dressed, had her makeup done, her Cheerio outfit on – I was trying to decide if she was already driving or if I'd have to sit through a whole period of Mrs. Weinstein blathering about the ancient Greeks before I found out.

I didn't notice her at first, because typically I don't make eye contact with cretins, but I heard her offhand remark – it was loud enough that I knew it was meant for me to hear, but directed at another girl.

"Bet she's a scholarship student. Doubt she even speaks English. Hey, why don't you crawl back into the boat with your family and go back to those islands of yours?"

My head whipped to her, lightning-fast, and her group of friends snickered. She was tall and blonde, just like _everyone_ here, but her face had a mean cast to it. I lifted a brow. "What did you say to me?"

She laughed. "You heard me. Scuttle back across the border. I'm so sick of all these wetbacks coming in, taking away jobs from Americans, and their brats getting a free meal ticket." She had her hands fisted on her hips, her head cocked. There were two girls standing behind her, both with varying shades of blonde hair, who laughed. "My dad had to work to pay for my education. Why should you get it for free?"

I looked at her for a moment, wondering if she was completely insane, and then looked down at the hot drink I held in my hand. It was kind of like magic, the way it jumped from my palm and splattered all over the other girl. I didn't even pause to allow her time to react before I leapt at her, knocking her down, slamming her head against the hardwood floor with a sickening _crack._

**Xxxx**

It was hours later, and I was sitting before the guidance counselor, probably the only man in the employ of Atherton Academy. His name plate read: Todd Neely. Mr. Neely. It sounded a little wanky, but I didn't think this was the appropriate place to point that out.

He steepled his fingers in front of him, elbows resting on his desk, and peered at me. He had curly brown hair that was kinda Jewfro-like, and also reminded me of Mr. Shue's macaroni hair. "Miss Lopez, do you have anything to say?"

I just shrugged, palms upward. The altercation happened in a blur, and I barely remembered it. It was one of the most intense fights I'd ever gotten into – mostly because I had been attacking with a seriousness I generally lacked. Usually, whenever girls fight, they don't really intend to injure one another. Not this time. I wanted to smash that girl's pretty blonde face in. I nearly succeeded, before some teacher grabbed me around the middle and hefted me away from her. Her. Her name was Mildred Birmingham, and she was a senior.

"She started it." It was lame, and I doubted anybody here would begin to believe me. But right now, I just didn't care. I felt oddly disconnected from reality, like this was happening far away, not to myself.

Mr. Neely cleared his throat, glancing down at the paper in front of him. I had already seen the principal and the Junior Dean, but when I proved to be "remarkably unresponsive" they sent me here. I bet they thought I was mentally retarded or some kind of closet nutcase, and I might go all Columbine on them or something.

"That fact is still up for debate. She is claiming you attacked her, unprovoked."

I sneered. "Typical. Of course she'd say that." I rolled my eyes. "Can I go now?"

"Young lady, there are serious repercussions to your actions. You injured another student, and she is speaking about pressing charges." He looked at me with kind eyes, but I wanted nothing more than to get up and leave this stuffy office. "You could be expelled."

I shrugged. _Good, I don't belong here._

He sighed. "I have no other choice than to schedule a meeting with your parents at their soonest convenience. We're opening an investigation into the matter, Miss Lopez, but if it isn't found to be in your favor we'll have to move to more strict disciplinary action." He adjusted a pair of glasses on his face, reading from the papers in front of him. "Until then, you'll have in-school suspension for a week, and Miss Birmingham has requested that her dorm room be moved, to avoid having to cross paths with you again." His eyes flicked to mine, and I wondered if there was a hint of admiration there? I couldn't be sure. It was puzzling.

"Good." It was all I could think to say. I knew if the opportunity arose, I would finish things with Mildred. Far from being intimidated by punishment, it was actually kind of exciting – to think I might have a surefire way out of here, back to Lima. Hot damn. Why hadn't I thought of this before now?

I stood up, collecting my backpack, because I was ready to go back to my dorm, or outside, or wherever. I was tired of talking to adults. Not as if they actually listened to anything anyone said.

I was surprised to see Miss Holiday standing outside the office, and when she noticed I was standing, she pushed the door open and entered.

"Mr. Neely, I'd like to discuss what happened earlier, between Miss Lopez and Miss Birmingham." Her tone was polite and even, but she flashed me a reassuring smile.

Mr. Neely glanced between us, puzzlement etched on his face. He looked at me and then gave a brief nod, dismissing me. "I'll be in touch, Miss Lopez."

I left, glancing at Miss Holiday wonderingly. "Wait, Santana," She said before the door closed. I propped it open, turning back to her. "Don't forget to check your e-mail."

I nodded. It was Wednesday, the day we were to get the results of our Vox auditions. I had to fight back a dry laugh, because I doubt even if they let me stay here, that they'd want me in their little show choir. I rolled my eyes. Or even worse, they do let me on, but Mildred is also a part of it. Kill me.

I walked outside onto the courtyard, which was absolutely deserted, because everyone was in class. It was nearing lunch time, however, so I knew there'd be a flood of students soon. I reached inside my bra, surprised to find the screen to my phone still intact. I sat down at one of the picnic tables. With a rush of trepidation, I clicked the phone on and read the four messages I had from Brittany.

The first was a picture of the pregnancy test, still in its box. _–This 1?_

With growing anxiety, I clicked to the next message. _–Ths is complicated. I got pee on myself._

The next one, a picture of the pregnancy test. –_Wat does it say?_

_ -Santana? Wat does it say?_

I stared at the picture, quickly tapping it and enlarging it. It had two lines. What the fuck did that _mean?_ I scrubbed my palm over my face, because I just couldn't tell.

_ -Fuck, Britt. I don't know. Is it supposed to have a :) or something?_

I wanted to cry. I had no idea how to read the pregnancy test, and couldn't, without the box or the instructions. Wait! The box! I quickly scrolled back up to the picture she'd sent me. I enlarged it, and read the fine print: EASY TO READ RESULTS! + IS POSITIVE!

I flipped back to the picture of the pregnancy test, and stared at the blue lines. They were both vertical, but they didn't look to have a plus sign through either one. Still, the picture was blurry and dim, and the lines were hard to read.

-_Brittany, buy a digital one. Seriously. One that says "pregnant" or "not pregnant."_

Who knew pregnancy tests were so fucking complicated?

I sighed, setting my phone down on the table in front of me, and crossed my arms, laying my face against them. I just wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere and get away from everything. This was too much pressure for one girl to handle.

Before long, crowds of girls started trickling out on the courtyard, but I ignored them. I wasn't hungry, even though I hadn't had breakfast yet either. My phone buzzed, and I snatched it up.

_-Where you at?_

It was from Quinn. I sighed, because I knew she was going to make this whole 'fight' business way worse than it already was.

-_Outside._

A few minutes later, she appeared, squinting her eyes against the midday sunlight. Her hair was flat ironed and perfectly sleek against her head, pink shading over blonde. She held a tray in her hand, and she sat down across from me. Wordlessly, she set a bottle of water in front of me, along with a paper tray of French fries.

"That's worthless starch," I told her, because it was a reflex. I hadn't had a French fry in so long I almost forgot that they tasted like. It was out of pure curiosity that I decided to munch on one. The rest of them were gone within three minutes.

"So," Quinn began, biting into a sandwich. "I heard about what happened."

I winced. "Yeah, she was running her mouth."

Quinn studied me, her gaze a little cold. "Santana, you _cracked her skull._ Like, she might have brain damage."

"Fat chance." I scoffed. "You have to have a brain in order to have it damaged. Besides, that's just a rumor at this point. Her medical status hasn't been released."

Quinn's eyes were still disapproving. "What got in to you? If I had known you were going to use that latte as a weapon, I would have never gotten it for you." She let out a little huff. "I can't leave you _anywhere._"

I sneered at her, because I really wasn't in the mood for her sanctimonious crap right now. "Q, don't you worry about me. I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

Quinn tilted her head at me. "No, all I see in front of me is a little _child_ who returns words with slaps."

I saw red, and for one blinding second I thought about jumping across the table and _slapping_ her smug face. "What's it to you, anyway?" I snapped, breathing through clenched teeth.

"Santana, you're too smart to do things like get yourself expelled for fighting." She said it patiently, like she was talking to a kid. It sounded suspiciously like a lecture.

"Just leave it alone, Quinn. It's already done." I crumpled up the paper tray the fries were on, then tossed it away, disgusted.

We sat in silence, Quinn eating her sandwich, and me staring at the table. My mind kept circling back to Brittany, who wasn't texting me.

"Fuck!" I said suddenly, then grabbed my phone and opened it to Brittany's text. "Quinn, you have experience with this, what does it look like to you?" I shoved the phone at her.

Quinn took it, perplexed, furrowing her brows. "Uh, a pregnancy test-? Why-?"

"What does it say!" I almost shouted.

"Uhh.. negative, I think." She paused. "But it's hard to say."

I let out a little breath. "Okay. All right." Pressure that I hadn't even been aware of released, slightly.

"Brittany." Quinn said, knowingly. There was zero judgment in her voice, though, for which I was glad. I didn't think I could take that right now.

"She needs to go to a doctor." Quinn said. I nodded.

"Yeah. I know. She's going to take another one and then.." I shrugged. I didn't know how to deal with this.

Quinn quirked a brow at me. "Is _that_ why you got so pissed at that senior? Because your girlfriend might be pregnant?"

I slapped my hand down on the table in front of me, rattling Quinn's tray. "Brittany _is not_ my girlfriend!" I hissed, with more vehemence than I intended.

Quinn held up her hands in front of her with a look of mild shock. "Whatever you say, Santana."

The bell that signaled the end of lunch rang, and Quinn gathered up her tray, even bending down to pick up the French fry tray I'd thrown on the ground. She lifted an eyebrow at me as I sat there, not making any movements to leave. "Are you coming?" We had the next class together.

"No. I'm suspended from classes for a week." I rolled my eyes. "Some punishment."

Quinn studied my face. I was picking at the table restlessly. "What are you going to do?"

I shrugged. "Nothing. Go back to the dorm and stream episodes of Sweet Valley High on my laptop and eat pints of ice cream until I gain ten pounds."

Quinn's mouth quirked into a small smile. "That's all? You just got suspended from classes?"

I nodded. "There was something said about talking to my parents, and an investigation.. blah blah blah. I didn't listen to their nonsense." I flicked my hand in a dismissive gesture. "I frankly could care less. Let them expel me. They're keeping me here against my will anyway."

Quinn's face inexplicably crumpled at that statement, and before I could ask her about it, she turned from me quickly and dumped the contents of the tray into a trashcan and stacked it with the rest. I followed her with my eyes, a little baffled. _What the fuck did I say, Fabray?_

**A/N:** I'm eager to see your opinions on this.. I promise that it's still a Quinntana fic, and I have lots more material stored away for them.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** I want to say, firstly, that I appreciate _everyone_'s reviews. I find them endlessly flattering and helpful, and I am honestly glad to know what you are thinking and the direction you want the story to go in.

But a special thanks goes out to **Ryoko05 & primrosered** for their reviews of Ch. 10. Ryoko05 – you gave me a good idea for an entrance to a character that I've been dying to bring in but didn't have a suitable medium, so thank you, and you'll see it in the next few chapters. Primrosered, you genuinely complimented me, and give me the impression that you "get it" about my writing, which is one of the most exhilarating feelings ever.

Chapter 11

I spent the rest of the school day feeling restless and bitchy. I was already something of a pariah at this school – due to anonymity, mostly. Most of the upperclassmen mistook me for a freshman, since I hadn't been running with their circles for years, and I despise freshmen with a passion, so I hadn't made any friends there. Unlike me, Quinn was establishing a net of people that knew her and casually enjoyed her company, plus she was easily discernible as "that girl with the pink hair." Quinn is hard to dislike when she's being ingratiating; it had been her charm, mostly, that allowed Brittany and I to rise to the top of McKinley. Once there, I had no trouble holding on – because I had carefully cultivated a sense of fear and loathing among my fellow students. Here, that was just impossible to do, at least with the fear part.

Okay, well I had thought that, but now.. I could tell by the expressions on some of the others' faces that they knew about Mildred. Most of them gawked at me with awe, some of them with trepidation, but most with open revulsion. It was enough to make me want to crack a few more skulls, but I thought better of it. I decided not to worry too much. This was probably good for my reputation, in that all these delicate little daisies would _leave me the fuck alone_ in the future. Unless there were a few bitches who decided to up their own cred by challenging me. I rolled my eyes at the thought, knowing it was a distinct eventuality. _I'll be expelled for sure._ I still didn't care.

All I could really think about was Brittany, and why the hell she wasn't responding to my text messages, and Quinn, who refused to communicate with me as well. I relived our conversation a few times, and the only thing I could get out of it was that I upset Quinn because I didn't care if I got expelled.. but why did _that_ bother her? I'd help her get expelled too, if she wanted. It's the least I could do, after everything she's done for me.

Eventually, because I got tired of haunting the courtyard or the common area inside, I made my way upstairs to my dorm before the majority of classes let out. It felt strange to walk around the building while the classrooms held the students captive, with only a janitor or occasional aide whisking down the halls. I flopped back onto my bed, kicking off my shoes, and heaved a huge sigh. I started when my phone buzzed.

"Oh, thank god, Brittany. I've been dying to talk to you all day." I said, quickly, into the phone.

"It's negative." Brittany said without preamble. I felt my heart quiver and then I released a huge breath, swallowing down the copper taste of panic. I guess I had been fighting it all day, but now that I had heard those words from Brittany, it released in a jagged breath. My stomach turned a little bit.

"Really? Did you get another test? Or did somebody help you?" The idea of somebody other than me examining something Brittany peed on kind of weirded me out, but in this case, I could let it fly.

"No." Brittany paused, her voice sounding embarrassed. "I got my period."

I had to close my eyes, pressing my fingertips against my lips briefly. "Thank you, sweet baby Jesus." I said quietly, and Brittany laughed. "Still, you should take one when you get off. Just to be sure. Because I've heard people can spot while they're pregnant.."

Brittany interrupted me. "It's silly, Santana. I wasn't having sex with a boy in June. Or July. Or most of August. So how could I already be pregnant?" She asked, with an amused tone, as if I was the one who had suggested that preposterous idea.

I squinted my eyes at the ceiling, because this was a subject of conversation Britt and I had been avoiding ever since Britt had revealed her relationship with Hot Wheels last week. "Okay, so definitely no way you'd be pregnant by Inspector Gadget already. Good. Use condoms." I said, in an even tone.

Brittany chuckled. "Why would I do that? Artie was a virgin. He doesn't have herpes."

I had to bite my knuckle to stop the stream of anger that tried to escape at those words. "_Britt._ Just humor me, and use them." I figured if there was anybody who was unlucky enough to get pregnant while on a birth control shot, it'd probably be Brittany. There had once been a scare before, halfway through freshman year.. because Brittany really couldn't be bothered to remember to take her pills every day. So I had gotten Britt a fake ID, took her down to the public health clinic, and signed her up for the twice-yearly Depo shot. I decided to Google later how often girls got pregnant while on it.

"Hmm. Okay. What did you do today?" Britt said in an upbeat tone.

I chuckled. "I got into a fight with some girl with the unfortunate name of _Mildred._ Her parents doomed her to a life of getting the shit kicked out of her with a name like that."

"Mildred." Brittany paused. "I like it."

"You would, Britt." I rubbed at my eyebrows absently. "I got into the show choir here."

Brittany squealed, and I jerked the phone away from my ear. "That's awesome, Santana! Congratulations!"

I smirked. "Yeah, it's good. Only it's a choir composed entirely of females, so I don't know how bomb it's going to be."

Brittany laughed slyly. "That sounds like so much _fun._"

My eyes popped wide open, and I had to fight the urge to scan the room in case anyone overhead. Of course, nobody had, since I was alone, but still. Who could be overhearing Britt's side of the conversation? I decided what she had said was too ambiguous to be construed in any inappropriate way. "I wonder if we'll compete against you guys at all." I said, by way of distraction.

Brittany hummed. "Maybe. Probably at Regionals. That'd be so confusing," She murmured, her tone dropping a little at the end. "Because, like, I'd want us to win.. but then I'd want _you_ to win, too."

I nodded. "Well, regardless, I'll be cheering for you, Britt."

I could feel Brittany smile through the phone. "Really?"

I laughed. "Yeah. My loyalty still lies with all the losers in Glee Club, not with a bunch of spoiled rich girls." I stopped myself. "But don't tell anybody that." I rolled my eyes. It wouldn't be good for my image, and I could just imagine Rachel Berry's self-satisfied smirk at Britt retelling this little story.

Brittany sighed, suddenly morose. "I miss you so much, Santana. This is too hard. I can't even remember going to school without you."

I swallowed a lump in my throat. "That's because we never have." I squeezed my eyes shut. "It's just for a few months, and then I'll be home for Christmas, and Spring Break, and summer. I'll practically live at your house during the breaks, okay?" I tried to reassure her, but after thinking about it, added: "So long as you banish your boy toy. I'm not real good at sharing."

I expected her to laugh, but she didn't. Instead the silence was punctuated by a strangled breath, as if she was fighting back tears. I felt my whole body respond subconsciously, curling onto my side and into the phone, as if, somehow, I could physically reach her.

"I'm sorry, I'm being stupid," Britt said thickly. I murmured to her quietly. "I just, I don't know how to feel about anything," She said, the words muffled and heavy.

"Feelings are confusing, Brittany. I know that." I felt so lost and helpless. I could tell Brittany wanted something from me, but _what_, exactly? I hated not being able to see her face or look into her eyes. It was times like this that missing Brittany became a physical ache; and even though I'd seen her just a few days ago, I never went this long without touching her or holding her. It made me feel oddly.. incomplete.

"You know that I love you, right?" Brittany said, and the anguish in that sentence fractured me. I had to fight back the rush of tears that tried to explode out of my eyeballs.

"Of course I know that." I had to swallow several times so that my voice wouldn't break.

Brittany sniffed, and let out a little breath. "And that just because I'm with Artie now, it doesn't mean I don't love you." She said it quietly. I felt the weight of her words through the phone line.. and it sent my mind racing. _Love, love? Oh my god, Brittany._ My stomach churned. The silence stretched between us interminably, because I couldn't keep my mind from reeling.

"Santana?" Brittany asked quietly. She sounded like she was going to lose it again.

"Yeah, Britt. I know. I understand." I said, even though I really _didn't._ Even though I knew Brittany as well – or better – as I knew myself, sometimes her code was hard to crack, even for me. I got the feeling she was trying to convey a lot more with her words than the message I was receiving.. and now she was waiting for something back from me.

I hated talking about feelings. It's just too hard. Especially where Brittany is concerned, because.. well, I just wasn't ready to think about it. "Brittany, I want you to be happy. If Wheels is helping you do that, then, okay." I said, lamely. Because I _did_ want Britt to be happy, but the thought of her flopping around on a mattress with Artie sort of made me nauseous.

Brittany gave a little sigh. "I'm really sorry about last weekend. I should have gotten a facial with you."

I rolled my eyes, because, _duh,_ but I didn't say that. "I'm glad you've come to your senses about that. But no hard feelings. I had fun with Quinn." My eyes popped wide open when I said that little sentence, because, _hello?_ I had had fun with Quinn, but.. I didn't know if I was ready to tell Brittany about it. Or even if I should. I mean, Quinn isn't like Artie to me. I'm not _dating_ her. I'm not even technically having sex with her right now, and even if I was.. then we'd still just be _friends._ Just like me and Brittany. Only, absolutely nothing like me and Brittany.

Besides, Brittany and I had established a long time ago that _sex isn't dating,_ and _sex with girls isn't cheating._ It was how we had both justified keeping boyfriends while still maintaining a physical relationship, but we weren't actually together. That bullet was getting harder to dodge with Britt, though, as time passed.. and the fact that Kurt's fruity ass was Out, capital O, and seeking a boyfriend didn't help. Britt had even mentioned something about attending an Indigo Girls concert with me once. Barf. I had the sinking suspicion that, if I had stayed in Lima, she'd be pressuring me to go public with our relationship, and maybe go _official_ with it or something. Just the thought of that made me want to scream and hide and shove every little thought about it to the back of my mind, beneath a giant concrete wall, and completely forget about it.

I decided that Artie might be a blessing in disguise, as much as I hated it. He would keep her mind away from that dangerous path. _Maybe in junior college, Britt, _I thought ruefully, _but not any time soon._

Brittany seemed interested in that. "Yeah? What did you guys do?"

I coughed suddenly, my throat seizing. "Oh, uh! We just, you know, hung out." I was blushing furiously even though Brittany couldn't see my face. I got the impression that Brittany was trying to figure out what I was hiding. _Shit!_ It was times like this I couldn't believe people thought that Brittany was dumb. Maybe a little absent minded, but she's more intuitive than anyone I know. She was definitely picking up on the discomfort I felt.

"Hmm.." Brittany said, speculatively, the sound thick with meaning.

_Shit, shit, shit,_ I thought furiously. "We've been spending a lot of time together, and we're getting along really well." I knew it sounded like a lame cover up, but I hoped Brittany wouldn't press the issue.

"I never got a gay vibe from her," Brittany said wonderingly, and made my eyebrows shoot up and eyes widen.

"Whoa! How did you go from us _'getting along really well'_ to her being _gay_?" I asked incredulously, disbelief coloring my tone.

Brittany chuckled. "Those are like your super-secret-Santana code words," She told me slyly. "Plus you said you _had fun_ with her."

I scrunched my brow. "So? She painted my toenails."

Brittany laughed. "Do you want to know what _that's_ code for?"

"Oh my god, Brittany!" I said, scandalized. "You're so _bad_. How can you make up a code about my words when I don't even know what they mean?"

Brittany giggled. "It's easy." She paused. "I'm just teasing you though." It was the perfect opening to let her know that something actually _was_ going down between Quinn and I, but..

I bit my lip. Was I ready to admit, out loud, to someone that I was developing feelings for Quinn? No, definitely no. What _kind_ of feelings? What? Even I don't know! I echoed her laugh nervously. "Well, you're crazy."

Brittany chuckled. "That's what they tell me. Say, it's time for Lord Tubbington's physical therapy. He pulled a hamstring."

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop from laughing. "All right Britt. Tell him I said hi."

Brittany whispered, "Santana, you know I can't do that. He's terribly jealous of you."

"He's a little shit. Tell him anyway." I smiled. "Talk to you later."

"K. Love you. Bye."

**Xxxx**

I felt strangely calm after speaking to Brittany, though we had only exchanged one set of worries for another for me to wrestle with. I was definitely picking up on the fact that Brittany was impatiently waiting for something from me, but exactly _what_ was a mystery. And in the meantime, she wanted something _else_ entirely from me concerning Artie. And I even felt like she was compelling me to come clean about Quinn. All of these things were subtle and intangible, yet nonetheless had weight with me. Still, they weren't pressing matters – Brittany and I had the rest of our lives to figure out these feelings, and at least until after high school to start, if I had anything to do with it.

Quinn was another matter. Now, I knew the girl was pissed off, or upset, or whatever.. but Quinn wasn't like Brittany for me. I actually had to work to be in tune with her, forcing myself to pick up on all her subtleties. In a way, it was easier, because it was less complicated than things with Britt.. but in another way, it was entirely more complicated, and thus that much harder. I wanted to grab myself and give me a good shake, like _what the HELL are you thinking, Lopez? You're an utter fool._

I changed out of my uniform, finally, into a pair of jean shorts and a red v-neck t-shirt. I wanted to do something after classes were out, and I needed Quinn for that. I kept checking my phone, both to ascertain the time and to see if she was going to text me. She hadn't. Her last class had let out about twenty minutes ago, and she never took that long to get back here.

I sighed, deciding to give in and text her.

_-Where are you, Tink?_

A moment's pause. –_Getting you something to eat._

I rolled my eyes. Why was Quinn so damn worried about me eating?

-_Ur trying to make me fat. Hurry up._

A few minutes later she walked in, a fixed look on her face and a detached glint to her eye. She handed me a styrofoam plate that had two pepperoni pizza slices on it, sought around inside of her shoulder bag, and then produced a bottle of water.

I took the plate from her, but couldn't resist furrowing my eyebrows and glancing up at her. "Okay, now I _know_ you're trying to make me fat. First the fries, now pizza." I paused, because the smell was pretty amazing, but I could see the grease pooling inside one of the pepperonis. "Are you worried I'll look better than you come bathing suit season or something?"

Quinn just shrugged, sliding her bag off her shoulder, placing it neatly on the floor beside her computer desk. She silently began stripping her clothes off, carefully folding each article once it was off (come the heck on, who folds dirty clothes?) and placing it neatly on my desk. I studied her, my eyes gratefully sweeping up and down her frame when she was down to matching bra and panties. Suddenly, my hands began to itch to touch her, and I sat my plate down on my bed, fully intending to give in to the impulse.

"No," Quinn said sharply, causing me to halt in mid motion. "Eat." The words were hard and clipped, and she wouldn't look at me.

I studied her for a moment, feeling a moment's sorrow as she yanked on a pale blue tank top with matching exercise pants. She tugged the little cross she wore on a gold chain out from underneath her clothes, letting it settle on her chest. She sat down on her bed, pulling out her phone and ostensibly checked her messages.

I picked up the pizza slice, taking a bite. It was lunchroom fare, but it was decent. I was pretty hungry. I decided to give in and finish the pizza, because I figured I wouldn't get anywhere with Quinn until I did.

When I was done, I stood up and very deliberately placed the plate in the trash can, then turned to Quinn with raised brows, as if to say, _see? I'm growing as a person._

She gave me a thin smile but didn't say anything.

I walked over and sat down next to her, wrapping my arm around hers and laying my head on her shoulder. That did it. I could tell she wasn't expecting the sudden physical affection, because she jumped, then turned to look at me, startled.

"I'm sorry I was a bitch to you earlier. I was just worried." I had figured out that these kinds of direct apologies worked wonders with Quinn. She was much more apt to relent with her ice queen routine if I seemed suitably ashamed and penitent.

"I'm not mad at you." Quinn said, with frost in her voice. I smirked, because it was probably the most obvious lie ever. I wasn't so much concerned about _why_ she was mad – Quinn is a girl, after all, and we're all crazy and get mad about things that don't make any sense, _especially_ Quinn – but I was really concerned with making her unmad, because after seeing her body stripped basically naked, I was feeling pretty frisky.

"Well I'm still sorry." I said, then lifted my head and smiled my most appealing smile at her. It was starting to work, I could tell. I reached around us and started rubbing along the small of her back with my hand, gently at first, but with increasing pressure. I could tell it was making her relax slightly.

"That's okay, Santana," Quinn murmured, sounding really tired. Something about the way she said it made me perk up, a little worried now, and take a good look at her.

She was letting her defenses down, probably because I was so close and was continually rubbing on her back. But she looked exhausted, like she'd run a marathon or had been crying recently, though her skin wasn't red and her eyes weren't swollen. Still, there was something haunted about them, and it made me frown.

"Quinn, are you okay?" I asked, with conviction, and it made her realize I'd been looking at her. She tensed a little bit, looking at me, and then shook her head.

"I'm just really tired."

It was a shitty excuse, and we both knew it. Yet something about her made me not want to press the issue. I pushed her down, towards her pillow, and she didn't resist, but did give me a puzzled look. I just scooted behind her, spooning her from behind, and snuggled her body into mine. "Take a nap."

Quinn chuckled, and it made me smile in response. "I have homework."

I propped my head up on one elbow, so I could look down at her. She was staring straight ahead, but her body was positively melting into the bed and against me. I fought back all my deviant urges, because Quinn seemed fragile and needy, something I knew couldn't meet the kind of demand I would be making. Besides, it tugged at my heartstrings to see her so – I don't know, defeated-seeming. It wasn't a Quinn I had seen very often, but it made me want to snuggle her until she felt better.

_Really? You fucking sap-_ I spared the thought before I began to run my hand through her hair, massaging against the scalp slowly and gently. "Do it later."

Quinn's body shook with a little laugh, though no sound came out. I could tell she wasn't too worried about the homework, because she was relaxing, and her eyelids were heavy. I leaned down to kiss her cheek, but she surprised me, turning her head quickly and catching my mouth with hers.

This wasn't like any of the other kisses we'd shared. Well, maybe a little like the first, but my memory of that one is a bit hazy. This kiss was soft, slow, and gentle.. it made my heart do a slow somersault in my chest. I gently rubbed my lips against hers, resting my hand along the curve of her neck, my fingertips delicately tracing the curve of her jaw. I felt her shiver, but even that seemed to go in slow motion.

Quinn pressed harder against me, shifting her body so that it was facing me instead of the room. She seemed to increase the intensity of the kiss, now going a little harder and deeper, finally parting her lips against mine to lav her tongue over mine slowly.

I felt my whole body heat up, but it was a leisurely process, starting in my stomach and working its way outwards, until even my fingertips tingled with flame and my face was practically burning. We were moving sluggishly, as if drunk on one another, and an emotion I wasn't quite familiar with trembled in my chest, making my heart hurt and my breath thicken.

Things were happening more quickly now. Quinn had reached up to hold my face with one of her hands, and mine dropped down to rub along the length of her arm, and then slide underneath her tank top. I danced my fingers along her skin, and I felt the soft vibrations against my mouth of her moan. The kiss accelerated, getting more breathy and penetrating. My hand skimmed against the firm flesh of her stomach, and then I experimentally brushed my fingers over the soft mound of her breast, grazing over the nipple that hardened at the slightest pressure.

Quinn gasped, and it made my whole body tense and quake. I leaned away from her to press firm, reassuring kisses against her swollen lips, and then started to drag my mouth over her face, kissing the side of her lips first, then her jaw, and cheek, and finally teasing the flesh beneath her ear.

Quinn was trembling, actually trembling, beneath me. I kept the force of my hand against her breast slight, barely kneading it, fingers occasionally tweaking against the nipple. I reached down and began running my hand over her stomach again, then over her ribs, and finally brushed over the other breast. Quinn's breathing was ragged and she had a hand fisted tightly on the material of the shirt I was wearing. I could feel the heat coming off her body in actual waves.

I leaned back to look down at her, and her eyes were so dark and glassy. Her lips were puffy and bruised, and she tugged the bottom one into her mouth when I met her gaze. I turned my face to press a kiss against the crook of her elbow, which made her smile briefly, and then I leaned in to kiss her face again. I pulled my hand out from underneath her shirt and smoothed it back down along her body.

I laid down, opening my arms to her, and she finally rolled into me, pressing her face against the space between my neck and my shoulder. I could smell her and it was driving me crazy, but I knew, instinctually, that Quinn just needed to be held. So I did, rubbing my hand up and down her back, and eventually she stopped quivering, her breathing returning to an even tone.

After a long while, during which I drifted in and out of a light doze, Quinn spoke, but her face was still pressed against me and the words were muffled.

"Are you trying to get expelled?" Her voice was small and unsure.

I opened my eyes slowly, looking over her shoulder and then down her body. "No. I'm not trying to."

I felt her breath whoosh out of her in a little burst. "Okay."

I frowned, puzzling over this odd question. _That's_ what she was upset about? Oh, boy. I chuckled lightly. "I never knew you cared so much about my academic standing."

The silence that echoed my words let me know, immediately, that my assumption was wrong. I felt Quinn freeze a bit, and my arms tightened around her, refusing to let her pull away. She began to rub her hand up and down my side, over the curve of my hip and against my thigh. I had to fight the little quiver that it produced.

Oh, wait.. my mind was clouding over, because now Quinn had rubbed beneath my shirt and was working her fingers down along my stomach, between us, then up along my ribs, just grazing her fingertips along the edge of my bra. She traced the fabric, underneath each cup, and then up over the side, even along the back, where it clasped.

I tried to stay still, allowing her tentative touch to explore my body. I sucked in a tense breath, squeezing my eyes shut when her fingers dipped down along the length of my spine, not quite suppressing the full body shudder that the feather-light pressure created. I felt Quinn smile against me, and to distract myself, I started playing with her hair, dragging my fingers through its silky texture.

She slipped her fingertips beneath the edge of my jean shorts, along the subtle swell of my butt, and I closed my eyes tightly, hands tensing into loose fists. She followed the edge of the fabric, along my hip, and then down between us, beneath my belly. Her fingers traced along the seam of my underwear and I immediately felt a flood of warmth between my legs. _Great,_ I thought sardonically, and just concentrated on breathing. It was getting more difficult, because I was feeling a bit light-headed and dazed, my stomach coiling into tight knots.

"Roll over," Quinn whispered, and I obliged, almost without thinking. Quinn shifted, laying on her side, with me facing upwards – almost a direct inversion of the position we were in before. The look on her face was slightly predatory, curious, and a bit unsure. I forced myself to relax, but that was a moot point because she started running her fingers along my stomach, rubbing the side of her thumb against my belly button, barely pressing down with the heel of her hand.

I felt the desire building in me, and I had to clutch at her rose-colored comforter to still myself from shaking. I closed my eyes and bit my lip, letting my face fall away from her, because I knew she was watching me and it felt uncomfortable. I had never really laid this bare and still for someone – but I sensed that Quinn needed it, and I was making myself relent to her need. I'm not the kind of person who has a lot of patience for things like this – usually, for me, it was fast and violent and stunning, sort of like a hurricane. And I knew that Quinn could be a like a hurricane, too. But this was different.

She kept her hand on me, running it experimentally over the fabric of my bra. I felt my nipples stiffen immediately and I had to repress a groan. I didn't know why, but these extremely light touches from Quinn were making my body react with hypersensitivity, and the persistent tugging in my stomach and my groin was making it hard to stay still. I felt restless and swamped with the consuming desire to flip Quinn over and run my mouth over every inch of her body, and feel her shake and squirm, and make her scream. This was maddening.

Finally, as if she could sense the torture I was in, she pulled away from underneath my shirt and cupped my face, turning it back towards her. She leaned down to press a kiss against my lips and then, before I could react, began kissing down my neck and along the vein that throbbed thickly, causing it to stutter and skip. She opened her mouth and began sucking gently there, making my body thrash and my thighs squeeze together. My knuckles ached with the tension of my hands, which were in angry fists against the bed.

"Oh, god, Quinn," I whispered, because I was blind with need. I literally felt like I was wound so tight that the barest pressure would send me into convulsions. It was blinding.

"Having trouble?" She murmured against my neck, sending chills down my spine. Her voice was thick with her own desire, but the mirth was still apparent. I gritted my teeth.

"Want me to stop?" She asked, a little more forcefully, pulling my ear into her mouth with her teeth. I moaned.

"Shit, Quinn," I said, fighting through the heavy fog of arousal. I pried my eyes opened and tried to focus on the ceiling, the bed, anything – but all I could think about was Quinn's warm, soft tongue running over my earlobe, sucking gently. It made me shudder.

She pulled away and finally leaned upwards, smiling down at me. It was a soft smile, not the one full of vicious triumph that I had expected. My body was like jello, quivering, nerve endings snapping and popping with unfulfilled want.

I shook my head a little, trying to clear it. "I think we better," I muttered, trying to catch my breath. Quinn smiled, leaning down to press a kiss against my mouth, and then along my jawline again.

"We don't have to," She said, so quietly, and I could feel her lips move against me. I was going to absolutely die from this, I just knew it. "You could just throw in the towel." Her voice had a hint of teasing in it.

I sighed, using one of my arms to lift her away from me. "No chance, Blondie." I said, but with real remorse. I was _definitely_ going to have to have some alone time later. I felt like one giant quivering bundle of nerves, tweaked to the edge of no return and then left hanging. And she hadn't even touched me, really. I scrubbed my palm over my face.

Quinn was grinning at me, and her dimples were showing, so she looked too cute to be mad at.

"You're so ruthless," I told her, with feeling. She chuckled. I reached up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, rubbing the lobe between my thumb and forefinger. Her face pinked almost immediately.

I just looked at her for a moment, absorbing the moment, when a slight pain in my lower neck had me frowning, and then scowling at her. "Quinn, I _know_ you did not leave another hickey on me."

Quinn's expression went to one of mock surprise, and then she made a show of rolling her eyes down to rest on the area she'd been sucking on earlier. She tucked her lips into her mouth to swallow her grin. "Oops."

I tugged on her hair playfully, then sat up. "You're definitely trouble for me, Tinkerbell." I ran my eyes over her body, as if the revelation shocked even me. "Definitely not what I expected."

Quinn smirked, rolling herself into a sitting position, then reached down to collect her backpack. "I'm full of surprises."

I chuckled, watching her as she pulled out notebooks and textbooks. _I just bet you are._


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Hope everybody likes this one. Happy St. Patrick's Day.

Chapter 12

The room was dark and gloomy. I had the drapes drawn and the lights off. I was propped up on my bed by a mountain of pillows, with my laptop in front of me. There were empty cookie boxes, pop bottles, and styrofoam plates discarded all over the place. I was still in my pajamas. I had been in these pajamas for three days.

See, here's the thing – right after I got suspended, I felt a little crazy and restless, being confined to one room. I had climbed out onto the roof a few more times, playing games on my phone or reading magazines. But I didn't venture beyond my dorm room during school hours; if I did, I was invariably questioned by some adult or another, and they sent me back. So at least from the hours of 7:45 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. I was a prisoner. After the first few days, I stopped leaving the dorm after school let out, because even the grounds of Atherton felt confining and I felt like all the girls were _watching_ me. Quinn had tried to tell me it was nonsense, but I didn't buy it. They stared at me like I was an interesting specimen beneath a microscope. It got unnerving.

Therefore, I had asked Brittany what a good series was to start watching, and she recommended One Tree Hill. I had signed into her parents' Netflix account and had been watching the drama unfold between the characters for the last three days, almost nonstop.

"Oh, Lucas," I murmured, digging around beside me for a bag of chips, not bothering to take my eyes off the screen, "Why won't you just be with Peyton?" I chuckled. "Or better yet, forget you. Brooke and Peyton should be together."

I heard the door open and then close with a determined _slam._ I furrowed my brows but didn't bother looking up.

"Hey, Q."

She didn't really say anything, but marched straight over to the drapes covering the window and snapped them open, flooding the room with light.

"Aiie! Hey! Warn somebody before you do that!" I said, heatedly, turning to block my laptop from the glare and burrowing even further into the pillows.

"Santana." Quinn's voice was measured and calm. I didn't look at her, just clicked the volume up on my laptop.

"Santana Lopez." Quinn definitely had a mommy tone now. I scowled, folding into a laying position with the laptop propped up on the pillows next to me, and yanked the blankets up around my face, my back to Quinn. I was wise to her, and it wasn't going to work.

"We're getting you out of this room today," She said, evenly, and walked over to rip the blankets off of me. I set my face in a scowl but didn't take my eyes off the screen. "You need to take a shower. You need to change your clothes. And, for the love of god, you need to _brush your hair._"

I knew she was right. My hair was in disarray beyond mention. I hadn't bothered doing anything to it since I hadn't bothered leaving my bed. I didn't even remember what day of the week it was.

"You're supposed to go back to classes day after tomorrow." Quinn said, a little more coaxingly, as if that would motivate me to get out of bed. No, not really. I ignored her.

Suddenly, I felt her hand grasp around my wrist, and she pulled me with one swift motion off of the bed. _Thunk._ I splayed on the floor unceremoniously, my legs twisted up in the sheets. "Shit!" I yelled, because a sharp pain was radiating from my tailbone and my heels, where they'd slapped against the floor with force. I glared at Quinn, finally feeling the motivation to get up, because now I wanted to hit her.

As if she were prepared for this response, she smiled down at me, spreading her arms in a come-and-get-me kind of gesture. I kicked the sheets off from around my feet and hopped up, fully intending to tackle the blonde, but she was too fast – she sprinted for the bathroom. I followed her, and as if on cue, she slammed the door closed behind me. I was caught a little off guard, blinking at the bright lights that flipped on above the vanity.

"Now," Quinn said carefully, as if talking to a child or a dangerous animal, "You have to get naked. You're going to take a shower. And we're going to go into town."

I frowned at her, trying to ignore my reflection in the giant mirror, because it was just a travesty. I felt the smallest pang of humiliation, thinking that I'd let Quinn see me like this –_ I_ had never seen myself like this, unless I was really sick.

"What's even in town?" I muttered, then began stripping off my pajama bottoms and shirt. They were a little crusty. Ew.

"Joy says there's a little pool hall-slash-bar place called the Armadillo Cowboy." She pressed her lips into a thin smile at the face I made about the name. "They have karaoke on Mondays, and they let anyone 18 and up enter."

I met her gaze in the mirror briefly, still stunned at the horror of my hair – it was like, eight inches tall, for god's sake – and then quickly slipped my underwear off and unsnapped my bra. I felt a little awkward being all naked in front of Quinn, but only a little. "Neither one of us is eighteen." I muttered, sliding the door open and twisting on the water faucets.

"Apparently Miss Holiday knows the owner," Quinn said over the sound of the shower spray hitting the tile. "She has some kind of deal with him, that the members of Vox can come in on karaoke night and sing if we want. We get unlimited cheese fries."

I rolled my eyes. "Quinn, what is your obsession with grease and carbs? You're going to be the size of a bus by the time you're thirty."

Quinn scoffed, and I could hear her puttering around in the bathroom. "Oh my god," She said, horror coloring her voice. "Santana, your clothes –"

I cut her off. "Just leave them alone, Quinn, I'll clean them up when I'm done." I felt a blush color my features and was grateful for the division of the glass wall. So, I'd been a little remiss in the personal hygiene department, so what? I slapped a palm full of shampoo against my hair, scrubbing furiously.

"Have you met any of the other Vox girls?" I asked, not quite sure if Quinn was still with me. I hadn't heard the door open, though, so I assumed she was still there.

"Yeah, a few of them. Practice officially starts Wednesday at 4. I guess that's good for you, since you'll be off suspension." Her voice was musing. "I sort of wonder if Miss Holiday didn't plan it like that on purpose."

I shrugged. Who cares? "I highly doubt it. Why would she specifically plan to start Vox meetings around my suspension?"

"Joy says that last year they started the same day everyone got their e-mails, and she didn't know why it had been pushed back a week."

I was facing the shower spray, so I almost jumped out of my skin when I turned around and saw that Quinn had peeked her head in and was watching me.

"Hey!" I yelped, indignant. "Do you mind?"

Quinn flashed me a devilish grin, but didn't retreat from the shower stall. "It's just, it's been so long since I've seen you clean, I'm a little mesmerized."

I rolled my eyes, trying to hide my growing anxiety about being so utterly exposed like this. It was unsettling. I had to fight the urge to cover my breasts or turn away from her. I scowled, squirting conditioner into my hand and slathering it through my hair. "Stop watching me, you perv," I told her, reaching for my loofa and my body wash.

She just smirked, cocking her head at me. This was beyond weird. I've never had somebody just _watch_ me shower before. I inexplicably felt like she was judging me, and I didn't like it. Quinn had no room to talk – although she has a _fine_ body, she had undergone a pregnancy. Plus she was much more liberal with the salt and fat nowadays. I had to fight back the urge to spat pithy remarks at her, because it was the only kind of defense I had. I swallowed every one that surfaced, trying to focus on scrubbing every inch of my skin, totally aware of the way Quinn was staring at me.

"You know when I realized you probably had the hots for me?" Quinn asked, suddenly. I glared at her, running the soapy sponge over my neck and shoulders.

"That time we took a shower together." She went on, not waiting for me to respond. "See, for me, it was no big deal.. I didn't think you did much beyond kiss Brittany, and hell, I'd done that with Rachel. Plus we'd seen each other a million times in the showers after Cheerios practice." She quirked her face into a satisfied smile. "I couldn't stand the idea of you standing out in our room and maybe touching something with all that mud on you. I already knew you weren't exactly the cleanest person."

"Are you _ever_ going to stop bitching about that?" I asked, because it was getting a little old.

"No." Quinn said. "Anyway, I thought you were just being self-conscious or something. I knew you were being weird about changing in front of me too. I kind of thought maybe it was because I told you that thing about Rachel, but decided it wasn't.. because, well, I'm not_ 'gay,'_" She smirked at the pointed look I threw her.

"I told you once before, and I'll say it again: I'm just Santana-sexual."

I jerked with surprise at that sentence, and nearly crashed to the floor again, since the bottom of my foot was slippery. "Holy shit!" I said, smacking my elbow against the tile and bruising my knee.

Quinn had broken up into a gale of laughter, but she still reached in and grabbed me by the upper arm to steady me. "You're pretty clumsy, Santana," She said in a mocking tone. "I don't know how you manage to pull off all those forward handsprings without breaking a wrist or something."

I glared at her, my face burning. "Can you please stop calling it that? If you're anything, you're bisexual." I was embarrassed at my sudden plummet against the shower wall, but even more mortified at that term.

"I don't see why you're so obsessed with labels," Quinn said, innocently, as I went back to rinse myself off. "And anyway, I don't think I'm bisexual, either. I don't get the hots for other girls.. only you." She smiled primly.

I snorted, accidentally inhaling water from the spray, and then choked. This was great. I was going to drown in a shower. I gasped, turning my face away from her. "Quinn, you have to stop saying things like that."

"No, I don't think so. It's cute to watch you squirm." She flashed me a deviant smile. "But anyway, there we were, in the shower together.. and you were acting like one of those shy little girls at the YMCA, afraid to look at the women changing or something. It was pretty cute. After you almost killed yourself from me rubbing that mud off of you, I realized it was because you were trying not to look at me." She grinned. "It wasn't too far of a leap after that."

I scowled, working my hands through my hair to make sure all of the conditioner was gone. "Don't flatter yourself, Blondie. I was just being polite. It's not courteous to _stare_ at someone while they bathe." I gave her a pointed look. She just smiled.

I flipped the nozzles that controlled the hot and cold water off, then turned to Quinn, dripping. "Do you mind?" I said, edging in closer, but still out of arm's reach. I had the weird feeling that she was going to try to cop a feel, and that just wasn't fair – she doesn't get to touch me while I'm naked unless she's naked, too.

"Not a bit." Quinn smirked, backing away from the entrance to the shower stall. I slid the door open, reached for a towel, and wrapped it around myself before I stepped onto the bath mat.

I was feeling a little uncharitable, both from the discomforting experience of having somebody watch me during the majority of a shower, and from the welts I felt rising along my knee and elbow. My face was set in a mask of suppressed anger, and I glanced at Quinn, who was leaning against the bathroom wall, watching me, with a haughty little smirk on her lips. I scowled, reached over, and ran my wet hand through her hair quickly, mussing it.

"Damn it, Santana!" She said, genuinely irritated. I flashed her a mocking grin. "Now I'm going to have to re-flat iron it." She was pushing the hair back down, but it was useless. Coupled with the steam of the room, the moisture was making her hair frizz.

**Xxxx**

A few hours later, we were sitting with a group of girls, numbering about fifteen in all, at an arrangement of small tables with chairs in front of a stage. The place was dark and smoky. The front half of the building was dedicated to the karaoke portion, with the pool halls spread out towards the back, and the bar running along one side and raised up a bit on some steps. I had carefully applied my makeup and done my hair, and selected clothing that made me seem older. I had definitely planned to try to get a few drinks out of this little visit.

Quinn and I sat with Joy and another girl, Carla, though the whole group was pretty much sitting together. Carla was a sophomore and one of Joy's cousins. Apparently Joy had a lot of cousins, and they all went to Atherton. I wondered if she was Catholic or something.

"What are you going to sing, Santana?" Carla asked me, with barely masked enthusiasm. She had decided to like me, for some reason, and it was kind of annoying. She had a hero-worshipping quality about her, and I think it was because she, like Joy, was slightly awkward and kind of a misfit around the sleek, glossy, blonde pack of Atherton students. She had light brown hair that curled riotously, the same unfortunate mask of freckles as her cousin, and even wider hips.

"I'm not sure yet. Maybe some Britney Spears," I said, remembering Brittany's zeal about the homecoming assembly at McKinley.

"Oh, I _love_ Britney Spears!" Carla gushed. I had my arms crossed across my chest, my legs crossed, and one foot rocking impatiently.

"Of course you do," I said, by way of filling the silence. Carla seemed satisfied with this and gave me a dopey smile. I rolled my eyes in Quinn's direction, almost begging her to help me with the girl.

"Hey, Carla? Do you want to go get us some cheese fries?" Quinn asked sweetly. She had already sent her away to get everyone waters a few minutes ago.

"Sure!" Carla squealed, hopping up from the table.

I pressed my fingertips into my temple, trying to ward away a headache. "She's so.."

"Nice!" Quinn interrupted, smiling blithely at Joy. Joy returned her smile but didn't say anything. She seemed down about something.

"What's up with you, Blissful?" I said. I had made a habit of trying to find alternate ways to say 'joy,' since I thought it was an awful name, but there were several more awful synonyms to the word. I had looked it up in a thesaurus.

She perked up a little bit at that, though she threw me a confused look, like maybe she hadn't quite figured out why I was calling her something else. "Nothing. Bummed about a grade I got in chemistry."

Quinn looked at her sympathetically and I had to fight back the urge to roll my eyes. Really? She was letting a grade get her down? "Joy, you need some excitement in your life. Do you have a boyfriend?"

The girl turned a deep shade of maroon at the mention of a boyfriend. Carla returned, setting down several trays of fries covered in that bright orange, liquid, plastic-y looking cheese. All three of them dove in, and I just wrinkled my brow. "Are you kidding me? This doesn't look edible. It can't be healthy."

"Santana," Quinn said around a huge mouthful. She definitely looked less sexy while scarfing down fried potatoes and artificial cheese, and I made the mental note to tell her about it later. "They don't allow MSG in any of the food at Atherton. Our bodies are starving for it."

I laughed. "Seriously? Doesn't MSG cause cancer or something?"

Quinn shrugged, piling more fries into her mouth.

"That's a flattering look, Blondie," I told her, raising a brow slightly. She chuckled, then scooped up some excess cheese on her finger and reached over, wiping it down my cheek.

"Ah! Quinn, what the fuck!" I scowled, reaching for a napkin. The other two girls looked at each other, obviously uncomfortable with the expletive. I had to fight the urge to blow up on them. I had to keep reminding myself that these girls were Quinn's friends, and by extension, were the only people at this school who didn't think I was some kind of hoodlum out for blood. I wasn't making the best impression, probably.

"Do you guys want to sing something all together?" I asked, trying to be nice. So far, nobody from Atherton had gone up to sing, and I was getting tired of hearing the local yokels croon bluegrass songs about losing their girl and moonshine.

"Sure," They all chorused, and I stood up, making my way over to the signup sheet. I scribbled the name of a Spice Girls song – rolling my eyes at the sure unrestrained exhilaration that Joy and Carla would have for the choice – and then angled my way towards the bar.

I was wearing a tight black skirt, knee high black boots, and a red top that showed a dangerous amount of cleavage. I had done my best to appear older, but I had a fake ID wedged in my bra, along with my credit card and my cell phone, if the bartender wasn't impressed with my efforts. I realized the only way I was going to make it through the evening without decking one of my fellow students was to be happily buzzed.

"What can I get for you, darlin'?" The bartender drawled, a hideous oaf of a man with a light pelt of hair covering his arms, back, and most of his face. He stank.

I fought back a grimace and gave him a winning smile. "Can I have four rattlesnakes, please?"

His eyebrows shot up. "I had you pegged for a tequila girl." He flashed me a smile, then walked away to make the shots. I sighed, leaning on the bar, turning to survey the room. There was a nice little crowd building, though it wasn't busy by any means. But it was only barely five o'clock on a Monday night. I hoped it picked up the later it got, because I really wanted to dance.

I slapped my dad's credit card down on the bar when he came back, holding all four shots with one hand. I thanked him when he handed me back the card, congratulating myself at how easy that had been. I sat down next to Quinn, shoving a glass towards each of the other girls. I smiled. "Cheers!" I tossed the shot back. It was sweet, and tasted like a cherry jolly rancher. I barely discerned the alcohol, which was why I'd picked this particular drink.

"What is that?" Joy asked, speculatively. She sipped at the wide brim cautiously.

"It's called a rattlesnake, and it's delicious."

Quinn elbowed me forcefully, her eyes wide and angry. I gave her an innocent smile.

Carla didn't hesitate, she just lifted the class and slammed the drink back, a reflection of what I had done. She coughed a little bit.

"Whoa! Good work, Pippa," I said, smiling.

Quinn leaned in close to me, causing my stomach to tighten in anticipation. She whispered in my ear, "Do _not_ get these girls anything else to drink," her tone was deadly serious and warning, but all I could concentrate on was her breath against my skin and how it made my whole body heat up.

"Why not?" I whispered back, though with much less subtlety. "They need to loosen up."

"Santana," Quinn squeezed her hand against my forearm. "I'm warning you. You can't get them drunk. They don't even know that that's alcohol."

I looked at the two speculatively, and realized she was right. Joy was sipping the little glass, and Carla's cheeks were suddenly flushed. I wondered if this was the first time they'd had alcohol in their lives. I grinned a bit at that, turning to Quinn. "Okay, I'll make you a deal, princess. I'll downgrade the Wonder Twins to Pepsi, if _you_ promise to match me, drink for drink."

Quinn pulled her face away from me, scowling deeply. "I have to drive."

"Hey, Joy!" I said, over the din of the place, and she turned her head towards me. "Do you mind driving us back, later?"

"No," Joy said, puzzled. "But.. why?"

"We're going to be really tired from singing and dancing," I told her, nodding. Joy seemed genuinely confused by it, and I thought she was a little endearing, even though she was ridiculously naïve.

"It's settled," I told her, smiling triumphantly.

"Santana, the last time I got drunk, I got pregnant," Quinn hissed.

I chuckled, lowering my brows. "No chance of that happening again, sweetheart. Besides, I thought the last time you got drunk you made out with Rachel?" I asked, all innocence. Quinn's blush darkened.

"We're going to go to jail," Quinn said in defeat. I just laughed.

"Are you a rum or tequila kind of girl?" I asked, standing back up. Quinn widened her eyes at me, throwing terrified looks at the other two girls. They were absorbed in the man belting out a country rendition of 'Home' by Michael Buble.

"Rum it is," I said, since she didn't answer me. I moseyed back to the bar and ordered two large rum and cokes, easy ice.

Several drinks and a few off-tune ballads later, and Quinn was well and truly drunk. I discovered she had a penchant for the Cranberries songs and was decidedly less politic with her words with a few drinks in her. It was adorable. I had held back on the liquor once I realized Quinn was going to get smashed.

Around nine o'clock, the place was really heating up, and most of the Atherton girls were relaxing and dancing, singing, and generally acting like regular teenagers, not the polished automatons that stalked the halls of the school. It reassured me to know that all of my fellow Vox clubbers were at least partially human.

"I wanna dance," Quinn slurred into me, after climbing down from the stage where she'd sang a particularly twangy Reba song, much to the adulation of the crowd. I didn't like country, and I doubt I ever would, but Quinn was still entertaining to watch.

"Okay, Blondie. Go find you somebody to dance with." There had been a tall man, youngish looking, with a cowboy hat on who'd been staring at Quinn for a while. I thought it would be cute to see her try to flirt while entirely too drunk.

"I just did!" Quinn said brightly, grabbing my hand. I laughed, allowing her to tug me onto the dance floor. I was thoroughly enjoying this side of Quinn, the one who let loose and had fun. I rarely saw it.

I glanced around, deciding that the amount of people on the floor was thick enough to mask us from the general view of the bar. Quinn started dancing, wildly, and it made me laugh. She was hysterical. She wasn't that great of a dancer, anyway – not as good as Brittany, or even me – but she had a kind of fluid grace that stuck with her, even beneath several layers of booze.

The song switched to something slow and mournful, and before I could object, Quinn was wrapping herself around me, arms twining around my neck. I froze, a little startled at the motion, and quickly looked around to make sure nobody was watching us. Everyone else was too absorbed in their own dance partners to care, and none of the Atherton girls were dancing. I sighed, deciding to relent a little bit, because I could feel Quinn's breath on my neck and the closeness of her body was making my heart thud thickly in by chest. I wrapped my arms around her waist, hugging her briefly, before swaying with her in time to the music. I rested my head against hers, nuzzling my cheek into her hair.

"I love you," Quinn murmured against me, and it caused my heart to skip a beat and my eyes to flash open.

"Um, I love you too, Quinn," I said, a little uncomfortably. I was worried she was going to start crying or something. Drunk people were entirely too unpredictable.

"You're so sexy," She slurred, turning her head to press a kiss into my neck. I smiled, but kept my eyes scanning the room, afraid somebody would notice our closeness. So far, nobody had.

"You're not so bad yourself, Tinkerbell." I squeezed her reassuringly.

"This is getting hard." Quinn said, her words muffled against me. I was fighting the little quakes of desire that erupted from her lips moving against my skin and the tickle of her breath.

"We can sit down," I told her, a little relieved.

"Not the dancing." Quinn hugged me closer, and I continued swaying with the music.

I frowned, confused. I wondered if she was channeling Brittany or something, with the randomness of her words. "What's getting hard?"

Quinn didn't say anything for a moment, and I held my breath. "Just, everything." She said finally, quietly.

I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say.

Finally, the song ended, and I peeled myself away from Quinn, tilting my head to study her face. I was on the brink of asking her exactly what she meant – when a man stepped up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Can I have the next dance?" It was the man in the cowboy hat. He looked to be early twenties and seemed nice. I could smell his aftershave.

I gestured to him, and Quinn turned, seeming confused. I was relieved. I quickly walked back to where Joy and Carla were sitting, now with a throng of other Atherton girls.

I reached for my rum and coke, now watered down and going warm, and drained it. I had to fight back the slight panic that was building at what Quinn had implied. I wasn't letting my mind settle on it, instead focusing on watching Quinn dance with the guy and keeping half an ear in the conversation from my classmates.

I had been picking at the cuticle on my thumb when I heard a shout, and I glanced up, suddenly gripped by a combination of fear and anger when I recognized Quinn's voice. She was shoving the guy away from her and the motion made her stumble, so she nearly fell to the ground.

I was up and racing her way before she righted herself, clutching her by the elbow and steadying her. I turned my eyes to Cowboy Hat, suddenly filled with rage.

"What the fuck did you do to her, you redneck asshole?" I spat, over the loud thrum of the music. He seemed a little bewildered.

"Nothing," He said, holding his hands up in supplication. Quinn was standing beside me now and all I could see was red. I stomped up to the guy and shoved him, then cocked back and slapped him, hard, on the face.

"You crazy bitch!" He exploded, stunned. A group of other people were watching us now.

"Keep your hands to yourself, Bullwinkle!"

"What are you, her fucking girlfriend? Buncha dykes!" He spat, and a group of his friends were surrounding him.

Quinn's hand closed on my shoulder, stopping me from leaping forward and knocking the guy down – or at least trying. I had the feeling he had about eighty pounds on me, easy. And he looked pissed.

"It's time to leave now, Santana," Quinn said in a suddenly sober voice.

"Fucking backwoods prick." I snarled, letting her lead me away from the dance floor. The locals were watching us now and an even larger group of people were surrounding the man. He was talking in a loud voice and I could catch every other word, even over the music.

"Let's go." I snapped at Carla and Joy, who looked at us with wide eyes and nodded mutely.

With Quinn's hand clamped in mine, I stomped outside, not waiting for the other two to follow. I could feel the anger and fury building in me and I knew if I didn't get away from people, quick, somebody else was going to get it. I guided us to Quinn's car, yanked out her keys, and unlocked the doors, before opening the one in the back and shoving Quinn inside. She didn't resist, just sat down and let me close the door around her.

"That was stupid, Santana," Quinn said, once I'd gotten behind the wheel and slammed the door closed. I shrugged.

"Yeah well, so was that motherfucker."

Quinn sighed. "I'm sorry I got so drunk

"No biggie, Blondie," I said, feeling my anger melt away. Something about her did that to me, and I didn't understand fully. "Not like it would have happened without my help anyway."

Quinn laughed a little, though it sounded kind of sad. "That's true." She paused. "I'm sorry that he called you a dyke."

I met her eyes in the rearview mirror, and there was something troubled in hers. I only shook my head. "Who cares what he thinks? He's an ignorant pig boy. I bet he fucks his sheep."

Quinn smirked, but it didn't quite meet her eyes. "I get what you're so scared of, now."

I didn't say anything, and snapped my eyes away from hers, to stare out at the parking lot. When Joy and Carla got in the car, I started it, and started driving, refusing to think about what Quinn had said, or what it meant.

**A/N**: It's short, but I hope you'll review anyway. :)


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

I felt my stomach clench in nervous knots as I walked down the hallway towards Mr. Neely's office. I had taken special care with my uniform, makeup, and hair today, resulting in a morning routine that took twice as long as usual. I had opted to wear my hair down, making the little mental note that Papa always liked it the best when I wore my hair loose.

I had gotten the e-mail the previous evening, and the alert was sent to my iPhone. It stated that Mr. Neely had arranged a conference with my father today for 10 a.m. and that I would need to attend. They were going to discuss my "future here at Atherton," and that would all be fine and dandy if I hadn't known that my dad was going to be absolutely livid. He hated being called away from work for anything.. and it convinced me that Atherton was resisting a payoff to make this go away, because that was Felix Lopez's first solution to everything.

The closer I got to the guidance counselor's office, the smaller I felt, the more transparent and insignificant. I peered in the window of the office, stomach doing a tight flip when I saw my father sitting there, in one of his pristine, pressed suits.

I sighed, steadying myself, and then pushed the door open, stepping into Mr. Neely's office. Both of them glanced at me – Mr. Neely with his soft brown eyes, my father with his coal-black ones. I fought the urge to swallow the sudden lump of panic, instead plastering a look of bored indifference on my face. My father can smell fear, and I certainly wasn't about to let him know I was basically terrified.

I sat down beside him, resolutely refusing to make eye contact, and stared at Mr. Neely.

"Hello, Santana," He said pleasantly. He shifted, organizing some paperwork in front of him. "I wanted to let you both know that the other student involved in the assault, Mildred Birmingham, has made a full recovery, and has decided to not press charges." His eyes flicked over to my father briefly, and I wondered if my dad hadn't funneled a bunch of money into the Birminghams to keep them quiet.

"Also, we have had several witnesses come forward, including faculty, who corroborate your claim that Miss Birmingham was the instigator of the altercation." Mr. Neely cleared his throat, and I had to fight down the sudden urge to cheer. I was stunned, naturally – I hadn't thought that anyone present that day would do something like stick up for me – and wondered if my father hadn't also paid a few students or teachers to come forward with this lie. I eyed him speculatively, but he sat, still as stone, with his leg crossed and face placid.

"The school board has decided to allow you to return to classes tomorrow, but there are a few conditions." Mr. Neely fidgeted in his seat, uncomfortable with the silence and the unwavering weight of my father's eyes. I felt a little sorry for him. I knew what it felt like to be pressed by that stare.

"Firstly, you are to be on probation. No more acts of violence will be tolerated. They have also mandated that you attend once weekly anger management sessions and require you to join a physical activity which will help divert your energies into something more useful." He shifted, leaning over his large desk to hand me a sheet of paper. "You may choose from any of the listed options."

I scanned the paper, raising a brow at the choices. _Karate?_ Really? I couldn't suppress the slight smirk. "Don't they think it's a little counterproductive to offer to teach me how to fight better?" My voice was dripping with sarcasm.

My father's head slowly angled my way, and all the words I had inside me died. I simply folded the paper in my lap and returned to looking placidly at Mr. Neely.

"Yes, well, martial arts can be very therapeutic, and they also teach discipline and control." He cleared his throat. "I just need both of you to sign these, which will act as legally binding documents, holding you to this agreement for the duration of the semester. We will begin our anger management counseling sessions next week."

I didn't spare a glance for my father, instead leaning forward to scrawl my signature along the line Mr. Neely indicated. My dad did the same, then stood up, flattening the lapel of his suit jacket.

"Mr. Neely, if you don't mind, I'd like a moment alone with my daughter."

My heart dropped. I had to force myself to remain still, fingers suddenly clutching the pen I had been holding. Mr. Neely stood up, nodding, and then left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

I stood up quickly, part of me anticipating what was going to happen next – my father moved forward, pinning me with the sheer force of his will against a wall. I gritted my teeth against the fury that lit his mien, refusing to look at his face, instead fixing my gaze to the right of him.

"Santana, do I need to tell you how _infuriated_ I am?" He said quietly, standing less than half a foot away from me. He reached down and grabbed my chin, forcing my face towards his. I recoiled from the rage in his dark eyes.

"No, Papa," I said, quietly, fighting the quaver in my voice.

"Good. You aren't completely stupid." He said it with icy indifference, though the fingers digging into my jaw belied his barely suppressed ire. "You will _never_ shame our family in this way again, do you understand me, _mija_?"

I had to fight the sneer that was trying to work itself out. I felt my own anger building, and I wanted nothing more than to jerk myself away from him and shove him out of my space.

"_Dios no permita allí ser cualquier vergüenza en nuestro nombre_," I spat, not quite masking the disgust I felt.

My father reached down and squeezed my left upper arm, above the sleeve, pressing his fingers harshly against the soft flesh, fingertips stabbing brutally. I didn't wince, though I knew there'd be bruises there by morning. He spoke softly and carefully, his face only inches from mine.

"Do not presume to speak down to me, _hija._" He was almost whispering. "_Tu no puede permitirse_." He gave my arm another squeeze, almost as if proving that he could. The ache that was radiating out from his grip was turning my arm into jelly, the muscles and nerves screaming against the constant pressure. I almost felt like the very bone hurt.

"If this is some little plan of yours to get expelled and come back to Lima," He continued, lifting his chiseled face into a sneer, "It won't work. The second you get kicked out of here, I'm going to send you to Puerto Rico with your aunt." He whispered, and the very thought of the threat made my heart thud in my chest. "Do not imagine yourself to be clever, little girl. You are a very stupid child sometimes."

"_Si,_ you tell me often enough, how could I ever forget?" My voice was dripping with loathing. My father's face was now a mask of heated wrath, and I knew I would probably pay for my little defiance. Nothing good ever came from his face turning that shade of burgundy.

Almost as if sensing the tension, Mr. Neely knocked on his door, and my father shifted, releasing my face and my arm in an instant. He went from being outraged and on the brink of violence to completely contained, though utterly annoyed. It was like watching a scene change in a movie. I had always wondered how he could do that so rapidly.

"Everything all right in here?" Mr. Neely asked, glancing from my father to me, and raising his brow a little bit.

"Of course." My father's tone was cold.

I glared at him, shifting away from the wall. "_Puedo ir ahora, doctor_?" I asked, my voice dripping irony. He twisted his mouth into a disapproving line and then flicked his hand at me without bothering to look at me again.

I slid towards the door, not waiting for Mr. Neely to dismiss me. I simply pushed past him and then out into the hallway.

My arm throbbed and burned like it was on fire. I was dizzy and lightheaded, and felt like I was going to be sick. I suddenly realized I needed to sit down – the whirring jolt of adrenaline was quickly wearing off, leaving me feeling unsteady and weak. I quickly pushed into one of the women's bathrooms that lined the hallways, turning around to lock it quickly and then stumbled towards a stall and slid to my knees in front of the toilet.

I hastily gathered my hair up in my left hand, wincing at the flare of pain that the movement agitated, and then started heaving into the bowl. Green liquid that burned my esophagus wretched into the water, scummy and slick. It made my nose and eyes run.

"Hey, are you okay?" A concerned voice asked, and my stomach quivered. I hadn't thought to check the stalls before I locked the door, and _of course_ someone was in here. I closed my eyes, pressing my forehead against the chill of the toilet bowl, not bothering to look up.

"Santana?" I wondered, if there actually is a God, if he just really hates me or something, because isn't it just _perfect_ that the voice had to belong to Quinn?

"Jesus, are you all right?" She stood behind me, and I could sense her immediately crouch down. She started rubbing little circles between my shoulder blades, one of her hands reaching out to grab the wad of my hair away from me, so I could lower my arm. The blood pulsed thickly there, and pain radiated from it with every heartbeat.

"I think I ate some bad eggs," I lied, because it was just easier. I was systematically locking away every emotion that surfaced in relation to my father. It got easier with age. I didn't even really feel like crying, right now. I just felt nauseous, and I knew it would pass.

Quinn's fingers started squeezing against the back of my neck, pressing her fingertips into the meat there. "I'm sorry. How did your meeting go?"

I shrugged indifferently, my face still pressed against the toilet. "Mi papi was suitably annoyed." My voice was laden with irony. "I have to go to anger management therapy and take kickboxing lessons or what the fuck ever, to help relieve my aggression." I wondered, numbly, if my stomach still had intentions to riot.

"Kickboxing?" Quinn seemed thoroughly amused at this. "Don't they know it's dangerous to arm you with knowledge of physical assault?"

I smiled thinly, though she couldn't see it. "I tried to tell him."

Quinn stood, then reached down, pulling gently on my upper arm. I sucked in a breath at the sudden eruption of agony her gentle touch elicited, hiding my grimace as I rose.

"Let's get you back upstairs. I'll tuck you in, and bring you something easy to eat later." She smiled at me, and I tried to smile back, but I couldn't meet her eyes.

She pressed her fingers gently over my forehead, along the red indent the toilet bowl had given me. I scrubbed at it absently with the back of my hand, trying to restore the circulation to the spot.

I followed obediently behind Quinn, trying to force myself to remain calm and seem normal. Back inside the dorm, I quickly gathered up my pajamas, then shut myself in the bathroom, craving the momentary isolation.

I studied myself in the mirror for a moment. I looked pale and haggard even to myself, with bluish circles beneath my eyes, which were glassy and distant. _I suppose I look like I could be sick,_ I thought dryly to myself, before reaching down for my toothbrush. I furiously swept away the acid bile taste in my mouth, and scrubbed so hard it made my gums bleed, as if by sheer force the toothbrush could also erase the pain and shame I had felt during the last hour.

Moments later, I left the bathroom, freshly changed into a loose white t-shirt and pink and white plaid pajama bottoms, my hair up in a disheveled ponytail. I had wiped away the makeup from my face, deciding I was going to spend the rest of the day sleeping, and maybe tomorrow too. Screw it – what was one more day? I could fake being sick.

Quinn had made my bed for me, straightening out the sheets, arranging the pillows. She leveled down the comforter and folded it back. I slipped into it gratefully, mutely thankful for Quinn's easy affection. Just her presence made me feel inexplicably better, less worn out and thin. With my head on the pillows I felt a lump rise in my chest, and I resolutely refused to look at her, because as soon as she saw the unshed tears, she'd know something was up.

"You okay?" She asked, concerned, smoothing the blankets down over me. "You need anything? Water, saltines?"

I smiled briefly at her around the thickness in my throat. "I'm cool."

Quinn studied me for a moment, as if something in my voice had tipped her off, and I felt color flooding my cheeks. I closed my eyes and turned my head away from her, trying to feign exhaustion.

"Are you sure you're okay, Santana?" The previous lightness of her tone was gone, replaced by something more like suspicion. I squeezed my face, forcing my body to relax.

"It was just a long morning." I tried to sound casual, but emotion colored my words. I felt the first few tears slip down past my eyelids, scalding my face. I prayed she wouldn't notice.

Wordlessly, Quinn slid into bed next to me, forcing me to shift over to allow her enough room on the bed. She snaked her right arm beneath my neck, pulling me into her, wrapping her other arm around my side and squeezing against my back.

I took a few gulps of air, which were flavored with the scent of Quinn's shampoo and light perfume, trying to stop the harsh sobs that wanted to rip out of my chest. Quinn was rubbing her palm gently against my back, pressing my body closer into hers.

"I'm really okay, Quinn," I said a few minutes later, once I had found the center of my little emotional vertigo. I really was. It was something about Quinn's kindness that had put in a chink in my armor, and made me feel vulnerable and tearful. I was long past crying about my father's passionate cruelty or spontaneous insults. I reminded myself of that fact over and over again, until the water in my eyes dried up and I could breathe normally.

"I know," Quinn murmured softly, tangling the hand of her trapped arm in my hair, her fingers absently scratching over my scalp. "I just felt like some cuddles."

I rolled my eyes. "You're going to catch my food poisoning." I said dryly.

She shifted, peering down at me with a raised brow. "Food poisoning isn't contagious, genius," She said, but there wasn't any scorn in her words, so they didn't sting.

I shrugged, pulling away from her slightly, allowing myself room to breathe. "Don't you have class right now?" I knew it was somewhere around noon. Lunch was soon, but Quinn had three more classes after.

"I'll just e-mail my teachers, tell them I got sick." Quinn smiled at me, lifting a hand to skim her thumb across my cheekbone, wiping away the hot smear of moisture there. "We can play hooky together, stay in bed and watch movies all day."

"You don't have to do that, Quinn," I said seriously, because I really did want to sleep. I wanted to forget everything about this morning, and next to alcohol, there isn't any more suitable oblivion. I briefly considered breaking out the fifth of tequila I had stashed in the drawer beneath my bed, wondering if I could drink it all in the next three hours before Quinn got out of class. I mentally lamented my lack of limes, and made a note to pick up that nifty lime salt the next time I was in town.

Quinn was distractedly tracing the fingers of one hand along the line of my jaw, following the bone, then sliding them down the arc of my neck and collarbone. Her little machinations were creating butterflies in my stomach. I kept my gaze locked on her mouth, aware that she was sweeping her eyes over my face, in almost a dreamlike state. It was kind of unnerving, but I had patience for it. I realized now that sometimes Quinn just wanted to look at me, and I tried to tolerate it.

"You're so pretty." She said it in an offhand way, like it was an accepted truth, the same way people accepted that the earth was round or that winter followed autumn. It was sweet, and it made my heart clench with a gentle pain.

"Really though," She continued, running her fingers along the cup of my eye, then over the bridge of my nose, finally tracing my lips softly. I smiled against them, pressing a tiny kiss there. "I think you're even prettier without makeup on."

I gargled out a small laugh, because it was so cliché and sentimental. I couldn't deny the way it made my heart beat thickly in my chest, though, or the lightness that filled me with her words. "You're going soft on me, Q," I said, trying to sound like I was teasing. "Is your period about to start or something?"

Quinn crinkled her eyebrows for a moment, flashing me a dark look. "Did you know that you're entirely unable to take a compliment?"

I smirked. "No, I'm entirely capable of it.. when they don't sound like cheesy lines from some romance flick."

"You're so cynical." She poked me a little on the cheek with her finger, raising her eyebrow. "It's unattractive in someone so young. You're going to have gray hair before you're twenty."

I rolled my eyes, sensing the humor behind her accusation. "That's okay, Tinkerbell, because you're going to have cellulite. We'll be quite a pair."

Quinn laughed then, and suddenly leaned down to kiss me, the smile still on her lips.

Something about the pressure of her lips against mine created a sudden shift in mood. I was abruptly starving for her, and I curled my hand in her hair, pressing her into the kiss. It erupted with passion; Quinn gasped against me, taken by surprise. I swallowed the sound and her breath, lavving my tongue against her mouth, my teeth scraping against her lips, demanding more pressure and more heat. She struggled to keep up, though I could tell she was overwhelmed by my ferocity and the intensity of the kiss.

Impatient, I pushed myself up and shifted us so that I was straddling her, the elbow of my right arm supporting me while the left clung to her hair, guiding her head. I was ravenous, my mouth working against hers with barely suppressed fury. I pressed my hips against hers almost painfully, and when it felt like I was going to drown, I ripped my face away from hers, gasping, only to jerk her head to the side and press scorching, violent kisses against her neck, her jawline, her throat, licking there, tormenting the flesh and the throb of the pulse that pounded, teeth scraping. My mouth left trails of angry welts along her creamy flesh, and something about the sight of them caused a kind of brutal satisfaction in me.

Quinn was panting, one hand fixed in a vice on my shoulder, the other fisting in the fabric of my loose t-shirt. I was moving my mouth lower, over her collarbone and onto the thin skin of her chest, pushing irritably against the layers of clothing that separated her flesh from my mouth. In a quick motion, I reared up, hooking my thumbs around the cardigan and pulling it up Quinn's body, not waiting for her response. She struggled to help me remove it, but I was already moving to the white shirt beneath, not bothering to unbutton all the tiny plastic discs. Instead, I simply ripped, and with Quinn curved against me, pulling the cardigan over her head, I parted her dress shirt with several subtle _popping_ noises.

"Santana," Quinn began, but I didn't give her time to finish, because I crashed my mouth against hers ferociously, swallowing her protests. They disappeared into a strangled moan, the vibrations tickling my lips and tongue. I pulled away from her, nibbling along her jaw and then I sucked roughly on her ear, causing her to squirm and buck beneath me, her breathing a chorus of gasps and wheezes.

My left hand was roaming restlessly between us, scratching over the pale skin of Quinn's stomach and the tight flesh against her ribs, tucking beneath the barrier of her bra. I lowered my mouth, pressing a hard kiss against the mound of her breast, my fingers reaching up to pull her bra down impatiently. Immediately, my mouth closed against her nipple, which caused Quinn to moan and arch into me, tangling her fingers in my hair. I craved more. I wanted every stitch of clothing off of her, I wanted her wild and thrashing beneath me, I wanted my palms and mouth to possess every inch of her; I wanted her out of control. I wanted it _now._

I slid my hand beneath her back and deftly undid her bra, tugging impatiently at the straps. Quinn obliged, lifting up, allowing me to toss it and the remains of her dress shirt onto the floor. I pressed a kiss to her shoulder, somewhat more gently, as she reared up, and I felt her shudder.

As soon as she was lying down again, I was moving restlessly on top of her, grinding my hips against hers, hands roaming over her arms, down the curve of her sides, rubbing against her breasts. My eyes drank her in; the sight of her face clenched tightly, bottom lip caught between her teeth, her arms above her head, elongating her torso. Her hands gripped the pillow she was laying on firmly, and I could see the muscles flex in her arms. She was quivering and flushed, her body colored with the faint bruises from my impatient thumbs and hungry mouth.

I lowered myself down now, more carefully, because I felt in control and I wanted to savor the moment. I pressed a kiss along the underside of her breast, licking my tongue over the sensitive flesh there, trailing down along the bend of her abdomen. Quinn's muscles trembled and she made faint moaning noises, her body shifting edgily, unceasingly beneath me. It made my own stomach clench and warmth flood between my legs, soaking my underwear and leaking onto the pants beneath. I pressed a lighter kiss against her stomach, licking my tongue out teasingly along the flesh, moving slowly lower and lower, until I was pressing hot, wet kisses along her lower abdomen, directly above the line of her skirt.

I could feel the heat coming off of Quinn in waves, and she was a giant bundle of nerves, simply reacting. It was incredibly gratifying to see the effect I had on her – I reveled in my ability to turn the composed and restrained Quinn Fabray into an undulating mass of want. My fingertips hitched around the edges of her skirt, fully intending to drag it and her underwear down in one swift motion.

"Santana," Quinn breathed out, and she snapped one of her hands down over mine, closing her fingers against my hand. She gave it a gentle tug and I slid my body against her again until my face was parallel with hers, my tongue lapping over her bottom lip, followed by the sharp clip of my teeth and then my mouth sucked on it, soothingly.

She was pressing her hand into my lower back, rising and arching beneath me, and I could tell she was going crazy for some pressure on her center. I tried to oblige by shoving my knee between her legs, but they could only bend so far due to the skirt. I only made glancing contact, and it seemed to drive her even more crazy.

"God, I want you," She breathed, her free hand running along the inside of my shirt against my back, her nails digging into the soft skin there. I twitched from the combination pain and pleasure, moving my mouth to scorch against her jawline again. I grunted in response, trailing my left hand down her body and then along her thigh, rubbing my palm hard against it. She bucked, spreading her legs even farther, and I slipped my fingertips upwards, craning my elbow and my wrist in the awkward position until my fingers were pressed against her underwear.

She was soaking wet, and it felt like a furnace. Everything beneath was swollen and slippery. I moaned, as if she had touched me, not the other way around, and sought to dip my fingers beneath the seam of her panties, trying to nudge away that last barrier.

Quinn was thrashing now, and I was irritated at the skirt that was hindering me. I lifted up again, pulling my hand out to unsnap the fastener of the skirt.

"Wait," Quinn said, breathlessly, and my eyes whisked up to hers. They were dark pools, the pupils the size of dimes, her face flushed and lips a dark red. Her hair was crazy and her chest was heaving. She looked ridiculously sexy – just staring at her, I felt the pressing need to possess her, the desire to shove my fingers inside her and cause her body to writhe and ride until it was out of control.

"Take your shirt off," Quinn said pleadingly, and for a moment I caught the barest glimpse of uncertainty in her features. I obliged wordlessly, tugging the shirt off of my body and then reaching around to undo my own bra, sliding it over my shoulders.

Quinn grabbed me again, pulling me against her, and our skin slid deliciously together, stomachs and breasts grazing, igniting trembles and sparks at every passing touch. I lowered my mouth to kiss her, with less heat and more care, because she seemed like she needed it. I was growing anxious again, though, as the kiss lingered, not able to fully quench the hot repetitive pulse that made me want to grind against her, rip her clothes off, manipulate her body into ecstasy. All I could think about was removing the last barricade between us, and what I would do once I had her bare before me.

She was running her palms up and down my upper arms as we kissed, tongues battling softly. After a moment she pulled back, pausing, and I sensed her gaze snap into focus. She was resting the meat of her hand against my left bicep, and I followed her gaze, suddenly aware of the giant, ugly bruise that was there. _Aww shit._ I had forgotten all about it, and as if in a dream, it began to throb with pain. It was hot and tender against Quinn's hand.

"What's this?" She murmured, running her fingertips over it. I didn't want to talk; not about the bruise, or anything. I wanted us both to be beyond talking.

I nuzzled my face against her neck, opening my mouth to suck on her ear and her pulse point, but she wasn't going to be distracted.

"Santana, those look like finger marks." Her voice was breathy but more determined. She pressed her left hand against my shoulder gently, shoving me away from her so she could look into my eyes. "Who did this to you?"

I scowled, trying to fight through the hazy fog of desire that blanketed my mind. I didn't understand why we were talking and not kissing. "It's nothing." I muttered, reaching up to push a lock of hair out of my face.

Quinn's body tensed, almost as if I had slapped her, and I could tell by the expression on her face that she wasn't going to let this go. I sighed, sitting up a bit, turning to look at my arm for the first time.

The welt was hideous and dark red, with purple and blue pressing in on the edges. It was very obviously the imprint of someone's large hand, the fingers and thumb squeezing around the bottom, almost meeting. It hurt, but even that was kind of a delicious sort of pain, throbbing in the back of my mind and in time to my racing heartbeat.

I shifted off her, abruptly uncomfortable with the place I was in, which was admittedly strange, since it's sort of my signature position. I scooted beneath the covers, feeling the flames of my desire die a little bit, because now Quinn's face was scrunched up with concern and a little bit of anger.

"What happened?" Quinn asked, turning to face me. I lied flat on my back, staring upwards, trying to slow my rapid pulse and stop the incessant throbbing between my legs. I realized how weak with need I was; my body ached for the pressure of Quinn's, my hands itched to be buried in her, my mouth was hungry to taste her. I had to focus on breathing slowly and evenly.

"My dad just got pissed at me for acting out." I said it casually, lifting a shoulder in a half shrug. I pulled the blanket up to my neck, covering my naked breasts, because I felt oddly exposed now that Quinn was just looking down at me.

"So what? He grabbed you?" She asked, and now her tone was edging in on fury.

"It's not a big deal, Quinn. It doesn't really hurt." My words sounded flat even to me. I refused to look at her, instead tilting my head to face the wall.

"Santana, that's awful. It is a big deal." Her voice was gentle and soothing, and I closed my eyes against it, as if to ward off the compassion that seemed to emit from Quinn in droves.

"Don't worry about it. He got his." I bluffed, trying to sound apathetic. It didn't work – instead I just sounded petulant and discordant.

Quinn was smoothing her hand against my hair, and she moved closer to me, to press a kiss against my forehead. "I'm sorry."

I jerked my head in an unsteady nod.

I could feel her skin pressing against mine, the soft pressure of her breasts against my upper arm and shoulder. I had to suppress a shudder. She lifted her arm to rest on my stomach, and even that gave me chills. I could feel her breath against my hair.

I groaned. "Quinn, you're gonna have to back off." My tone was tight and strained. "Or I'm going to win this bet, with or without your consent." I was only kind of joking. My body was one tight chord, throbbing and writhing in time to my pulse.

Quinn quirked a brow, propping her head up on her palm. I refused to look at her, instead keeping my eyes firmly closed.

Quinn's hand wandered upwards, cupping my breast, and I jerked, unable to suppress with way my body squirmed against her. My breath exploded in a silent gasp.

She ran her thumb wonderingly over my nipple, scraping over the sensitive knoll leisurely, sending daggers of lust through my body. I groaned, lifting my hand to bite at the palm, trying to relieve the pressure that was building in my gut. It didn't help.

"I'm serious, Quinn," I breathed, my heart hammering. I was feeling extremely lightheaded and the urgency that possessed me before returned. I was a second away from flipping her over and having my way with her.

Quinn smirked, lowering her face to kiss my shoulder. "If you weren't so stubborn, I could help you out a little bit.."

I nearly growled, then clasped my hand tight around her wrist, pulling it forcefully away from my breast. I glared at her. "If _you_ weren't such a fucking ridiculous tease, you'd be the recipient of multiple orgasms right now," I spat harshly. I was fed up with this bet crap. A sexually frustrated Santana is not a happy Santana.

Quinn's eyebrows shot up. "I thought the bet was to get you to have sex with me first? And vice versa?" She smiled a little smugly. "Seems like that was going to happen just a second ago. I mean, I'm not stopping you.. but then you'd technically _lose._"

I scowled, a bit confused. "Whatever. I don't care." I was angry now. The tension in my groin was too much, and my pants were sticky against me. I needed to change. "I'm calling it off."

"I knew you wouldn't last." Quinn's face was prim and sexy all at once, a combination that made me want to simultaneously slap and kiss her. God, this girl made me feel too many emotions, all of them entirely too passionate.

"Shut your fucking face, Fabray," I growled, clenching my fingers into the comforter. I felt bizarrely defenseless, like Quinn had all the power. She _knew_ how badly I wanted her, and she was using it against me – it felt strangely like humiliation, even if she hadn't intended it like that. I don't know if I ever wanted anyone the way I wanted Quinn, like it was a physical ache, my body craving it. It was driving me insane; I sorta felt like crying, and that was definitely a kind of madness.

"Here, I have an idea," Quinn said suddenly, then hopped out of bed. I watched her as she darted towards the door, locking it, and then back to the window, pulling the drapes closed. The room went dark, muffling the edges of everything in the muted light.

She climbed back into bed with me, but on the right side, away from my injured arm. She settled against me again, nuzzling her face into my neck.

"What's your brilliant idea?" I asked, because my breathing was growing strained again.

"Have you seen that movie 'Get Him to the Greek'?" She asked, quietly, mumbling against my neck. Goosebumps erupted along my skin.

"Um, I think so. With Russell Brand?" I asked, turning my head away from her, giving her more room to maneuver.

"Yeah, and when he's with his ex-wife, you know, she suggests that she tells him naughty stories while he, you know," Quinn kissed my shoulder and along my collarbone. I squirmed.

"Okay? What about it?" I was confused, but I think that was mostly due to the red fog that was creeping over my mind.

"I'll let you off the hook for this one time. I'll lay here and tell you naughty stories," She smirked against my skin. "And you can.. you know. It's like a free pass."

I scowled. "No way. That makes me feel like a prepubescent boy."

"Oh, c'mon," Quinn was grinning. "I'll let you play with my boobs."

I rolled my eyes. "Not worth the humiliation, Goldilocks."

Quinn's expression changed, and she lowered her head against my ear, tugging on it gently with her lips. "Please?" She whispered, causing my whole body to clench. "It'll be so hot."

I groaned, my eyes rolling in the back of my head. Quinn began kissing my neck in earnest, rubbing her lips against me, flicking her tongue out to tease the skin. My heart stuttered in my chest, causing my stomach to quiver and clench.

I sighed. "I'm doing this under protest," I muttered.

"Noted." Quinn blew gently against the hot flesh of my neck, making me shudder.

I reached my left hand down, sneaking it beneath the elastic of my pajama pants and underneath my underwear. Everything was drenched and swollen, and I rubbed my fingers experimentally over the familiar folds, applying expert pressure, massaging lightly. I was determined to get this done as quickly as possible, because the whole situation was both arousing and awkward at the same time.

Quinn moved her mouth down along the curve of my chest, and then she suddenly pulled the blanket down and cupped my breast again. Without warning she sucked my nipple into her mouth, lavving her tongue over the hardened point, eliciting a breathy moan. My body arched, and my fingers pressed harder against my clit, causing my own hips to buck off the bed. Quinn was sucking on my nipple mercilessly, rolling the flesh of my breast beneath her hand, working her entire mouth against me. I let out a loud groan, then bit my lip, burying my free hand in her hair and tangling my fingers there.

"Oh, shit, Quinn," I panted, working rhythmically against myself, jerking my hips as my index and ring finger pressed tight, sharp circles against my clit. Before I knew it I was arching, my breath catching in my throat, my entire body locking up. Quinn's hand snaked down to hold my hip, her fingers pressing hard against me as I rode out the orgasm, which tore the air from my lungs in ragged gasps. My heels pressed against the mattress, toes curling, before my body relaxed in one long convulsion.

I suddenly felt heavy and lazy, and I dragged my hand out of my pants, wiping the moisture against the outside of my pajamas. My eyes were closed tightly. Quinn had lifted her head up to press soft, light kisses against my face, against my cheek and my jaw, along the side of my lips. My breathing was still unsteady, my heart leaping in my chest, but the rest of me was utterly still.

"That was so, so sexy," Quinn whispered, pulling the blanket up again over my chest. I was running my fingers through her hair languidly.

"Mmm." I wasn't capable of talking yet. That was probably the best self-induced orgasm ever. I definitely needed a panty change now.

Quinn laid down beside me, resting her head on my shoulder. We were silent for a while, and I was beginning to doze off.

"Do you want to know a secret?" Quinn asked suddenly, in a hushed whisper.

"Mm, yeah." I said, shifting, reaching over to hug her closer to me.

"I really want to do that to you." There was raw honesty in her voice, and something about the way she said it made my heart skip a beat.

"That's the idea, eventually," I told her.

"Yeah.. and I want you to do it to me. I don't know what that means." I felt her shrug. "I've never had an orgasm before."

My eyes opened slowly, and I paused, but then started rubbing her back reassuringly. "I told you, Puck is an oaf. He didn't deserve you."

Quinn trembled a little bit against me, and I hugged her even tighter, sensing she was on the verge of some kind of.. something. I wish my mind wasn't so foggy and hazy right now, though I was completely content and felt so, so good.

"Why don't we call the bet off?" I said into the silence. "Let me show you how it's supposed to happen. I think if you keep trying to seduce me into giving in, I'm probably going to be kind of rough." I said it with a bit of self-deprecation. "I'm not incredibly patient when I'm wound up."

Quinn's voice was colored with laughter. "I like that about you. It's erotic."

I smirked a bit. "Yeah, but it's not very _romantic._"

Quinn tensed a little bit. "I'm scared of that. Romance."

I was trying to think of a way to respond when I felt her shake her head against me. "No, I'm having too much fun. The bet is still on."

I sighed, but didn't argue. I surprised myself with that little statement – since _when_ did I care about romance, and why the hell would I want to give it to Quinn? My heart hurt. It felt raw and sore, both from me struggling to hold back certain emotions and fighting to allow others in. I just held Quinn against me, acutely aware of the lack of clothing between us, feeling her heart beat and listening to her breathe. We laid like that for a long time.

**A/N:** I hope everybody enjoyed this. Reviews = love. Also, if you have any good ideas for songs for the Vox to do as a group and also individually for Quinn, Santana, and Sugar, let me know. I intend to start writing Sugar the next chapter.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** It's funny you mention Sugar.. I'm so nervous about writing her, and I honestly am going to try to make it to where Santana doesn't want to rip her head off. We'll see how that goes.

Chapter 13

The choir room at Atherton made the one at McKinley look like a joke. This one was huge, the floor a polished marble, with actual risers in the back instead of a group of chairs. To one side there was a small stage with velvet purple curtains, to practice at. There were chairs, too, and a piano and other assorted instruments. Here, though, we didn't have a group of perpetual jazz band students just hanging around, begging to break into a song with us for whatever lesson we might have that day.

Miss Holiday was a lot different from Mr. Shuester. I noticed that right away. I also noticed that she had a unique relationship with every single girl in the choir room, except me – all of them seemed to know her and absolutely adore her, even Quinn. Quinn had told me tales of her funny but somewhat unbelievable antics during health class. At first I thought she was probably just really, really high. That was the only explanation that made sense. She was admittedly humorous, and random, and weirdly cool because she didn't look at us blankly whenever Twitter was mentioned. She gushed along with one of the girls about her celebrity crush on Taylor Lautner, and teased Joy into a fit of giggles about the boy Miss Holiday thought she was dating from town.

I sat wedged between Quinn and Carla, my legs crossed. I was filing the nails of my right hand for most of the meeting, though what exactly we were meeting about was a bit of a mystery. Mostly Miss Holiday spent the time asking the girls about their summer, their boyfriends, their families, their classes. We didn't talk about music or the fact that sectionals would be in the next five weeks. We didn't do voice warm ups or go through vocal runs. It made me wonder how, exactly, she managed to wrangle in a trophy or two every year with her glee club.

"My father took me to Barbados this summer," Said one girl, with a whiny, nasally voice. I snapped my gaze in her direction, because nobody had been talking to her and she abruptly interrupted everyone. She had that light brownish hair and giant hawk nose, and I tried to remember why she immediately annoyed me. Then I remembered: she was the one who butchered Cher at try outs a few weeks ago. What was her name? Something ridiculous.

The entire room paused, and even I felt the teeniest, tiniest bit sorry for her, because, c'mon, who felt the need to brag about their father's money _here?_ Everyone was staring at her with varying degrees of distaste and I got the impression nobody really liked Sugar, they just tolerated her. Except for Miss Holiday, who smiled warmly at her.

"That's rockin'. Did you meet any cute guys?" She asked, not missing a beat.

"No." Sugar stated, a little mournfully. "I got stung by a jellyfish. It left a huge rash."

Once again, the silence ticked in the room, as if nobody knew how to respond to her. Damn it. I felt myself softening towards her, because, let's admit it, this chick was completely hideously annoying, but something about her sort of reminded me of Brittany. Gag. The thought was slightly repugnant even to me, but there it was.

I glanced at Quinn, trying to read her face. Her brows were knit in a mixture of confusion and disbelief, her eyes sweeping over Sugar and then Miss Holiday and the rest of the room.

"Wanky." I said into the quiet, just to absolve the tension. Quinn looked at me, surprised, and I lifted an eyebrow, shrugging.

Sugar's gaze snapped to me, as if for the first time, and there was an unreadable expression on her face. The one on mine stated simply: _don't think too much about it._ I wasn't trying to make friends. I just felt sorry for her.

Miss Holiday had had a funny expression on her face, and she seemed like she couldn't keep it in any longer: "You know what they say takes the burn out of jellyfish stings.." Her voice was thick with humor. I grinned, catching on, and so did about half of the room.

Sugar turned her nose up, not appreciating the implication.

"All right ladies, let's get down to business." Miss Holiday said, dragging a chair out from the ones that were in neat rows to place in front of us. I liked that about her. She didn't need to be standing up to keep our attention or to take over authority.

"I want everyone to spend the rest of the week thinking about what songs you want to sing at Sectionals. I'm definitely going through a Beyonce phase right now, so keep it along those tracks." She smiled briefly. I was a bit incredulous. Did she really not care that much, or was Mr. Shue a giant control freak without a flexible bone in his body? I couldn't decide.

I immediately recognized the reason why I was annoyed was because even if Miss Holiday didn't care much about it, I did. And that was something that surprised the hell out of me – I mean, I liked the glee club at McKinley, but that was because it had all my friends in it and it was less about singing and dancing than it was about learning life lessons and sticking together and being a family, yadda-yadda-yadda, all that after school special nonsense. But I was beginning to realize that I did like preforming, and I especially liked winning.

I had to fight down the urge to give Miss Holiday a piece of my mind, because it made me feel like a psychotic controlling Rachel Berry and, uh, _no._ I'd rather die than have anyone, even myself, compare me to Frodo.

"I want to do Michael Jackson." Sugar interjected. Miss Holiday's eyes slowly rolled over to her, her lips quirked in an unsure expression.

"What song?" She said, and that surprised me. I had expected her to shoot her down.

"I don't know. Billie Jean!" Sugar sounded excited again. I couldn't tell if Miss Holiday was humoring her because she was genuinely interested in doing Michael Jackson, or because she felt like she had to listen to Sugar since her father paid for everything for the show choir.

"I'd rather do Pink." I said, just to see what her response was.

I ignored the surprised looks of the other girls and Quinn, instead staring straight ahead at Miss Holiday.

"Good idea. What song?"

I hadn't expected that, and it threw me off a little bit. "Umm. Sober." It was the first one that popped into my head.

Miss Holiday grinned, as if my answer had had some double meaning – it _didn't_, really, but now I had myself thinking guiltily about the music video, where Pink is having sex with herself, and it was kind of hot. And I wondered if Miss Holiday could read what I was thinking, and I scowled instead of blushed, because, well, that shit's private and Miss Holiday is some kind of perv.

"Those are all good ideas, girls. Keep thinking. Maybe we'll do a Michael Jackson/Pink mashup." She stood up, and so did the rest of the girls, who all started chattering and gathering up their things.

I was still puzzling over how disharmonious and awful an MJ/Pink mashup would be, wandering towards the door, when I was snapped back to reality by Miss Holiday.

"Hey, Santana? Can I talk to you for a minute?"

I turned to look at her quizzically. I fiddled with the straps of my backpack, standing there awkwardly, waiting for the room to filter of students. Quinn had paused to press her palm against my elbow briefly, and then she too disappeared with the tide of girls.

"I heard you're some kind of Million Dollar Baby," Miss Holiday began, leaning on the wooden podium situated in the middle of the room and clasping her hands in front of her.

I quirked a brow at her, my expression caught between interested and pissed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The blonde teacher smirked. "Just that you decked Millie Birmingham and then got into some bar fight at the Cowboy Monday night." She didn't seem angry or disapproving. No, in fact, it sounded a lot like she approved, which was mega confusing.

"So? Is this going to turn into a lecture?" I lifted my shoulder in a shrug. "Because I'm genuinely not interested in hearing your advice."

Miss Holiday laughed, and gave me a knowing smile, like she thought she knew me. It made me bristle – nothing irritated me more than adults who tried to be buddy buddy for no good reason.

"I didn't think so. But listen up, Hot Lips," She said with a tone of seriousness. "I'm honestly looking forward to you sticking around to perform with us this year. I bet you'll be amazing. So the next time you think about punching the lights outta some mouthy bitch, just try to remember that we're counting on you."

I frowned. That wasn't what I was expecting either. Miss Holiday did seem to care about her Vox club, even though everything about her attitude screamed otherwise.

"All right." I said cautiously. "Can I go now?"

She smiled at me, making the lines around her blue eyes crinkle up. "Sure. See you tomorrow."

I turned and left, still mulling over the brief conversation we'd had. It made me realize what she had been aiming at – that I did have a reason to want to stay here, even if it was as little as competition show choir. I already had Quinn, and the ruthless threat of being shipped off back to the homeland, to motivate me.. but now I was beginning to think that Vox and Miss Holiday would give me additional motivation to avoid putting people in the hospital.

In the deserted hallway, I began walking towards the cafeteria, because I suspected Quinn was there already. If I didn't stop her she'd be getting me some kind of meal full of saturated fat and grease.

"Your name is Santana Lopez, right?" The voice came out of nowhere. Suddenly, that Motta girl was standing next to me. She was tall and gangly and reminded me of a crane. An annoying, loud, squawking crane. I glared at her.

"Yeah. And?" I didn't want to encourage her. She needed to skiddadle.

"My name is Sugar Motta." She smiled at me patronizingly. "I'm going to be your friend."

"Whoa, wait, no." I rounded her abruptly, stopping our forward motion. I poked a finger into her chest, as if to drive the point home: "No, Motta, you're staying far away from me. The sounds flapping from your beak remind me of the mating call of sick ducks. I hate ducks." I said, for emphasis.

Sugar tilted her head, and seemed kind of puzzled. Then she fished around in the giant purse she had flung over her bony shoulder, and came out holding one of those velvet-y boxes which typically contained jewelry. She offered it to me.

"I got you that." She said. I stared at her. Was this chick for real?

"You're unbelievable." I didn't take the box. She shoved it at me anyway, letting go of it, and so I was forced to clutch at it so it didn't fall to the ground.

"Thank me later," Sugar said breezily, and then began walking in front of me, as if_ I_ was the one holding _her _up from her destination.

I entered the dining hall after she did, somewhat horrified to see her making a beeline towards the table that housed Quinn and Carla. I didn't see Joy anywhere. Quinn was looking at Sugar with an irritated expression, and I thought maybe Quinn was going to go all HBIC on her.

Part of me really wanted to watch that, because, let's be honest – angry pixie Quinn is so _hot_, and I kinda missed her. But then reason overtook emotion, and I started towards them, grabbing Sugar by her shoulder and sitting her down forceful shove. I sat down quickly. It wouldn't have been wise for Quinn to start a scene here, and I didn't want her to ruin her sweet girl image.

I smiled a little apologetically at her, then turned to the brunette beside me. "Listen up, Rita Pavone. You're extraordinarily annoying. Please sit here silently, if you must. If not, go away."

She was studying me with her head cocked to the side again. It only emphasized her hawkish demeanor. "Santana, you're kind of a bitch." She smiled through the words. "I have self-diagnosed Asperger's. I'm a bitch too. We're going to be best friends."

I rolled my eyes at her. "Holy shit, you are dense."

"No, I'm Sugar Motta," She said it slowly, enunciating each word, like maybe she thought I couldn't understand her or something. "You do speak English, right?"

Quinn's mouth dropped open, and my face squinted. I was contemplating wringing her neck and was on the verge of a verbal explosion when Quinn reached over and squeezed my forearm. I just scowled. It seemed like had realized the same thing I did, before, that a confrontation in this setting just wasn't a good idea. Now she was holding me back from going psycho on this Italian girl.

"Besides," Sugar blathered on, digging around inside her purse now, searching for something. "I'm Italian, and you're Mexican, right? We're, like, basically related." She beamed at me.

Even Quinn choked at that, and I felt myself slowly burning into a rage. Part of me felt hopelessly sorry for her because she was clearly an imbecile, but the other part of me just wanted to beat her ass. A lot.

"I am not _Mexican_," I hissed.

"Santana," Quinn said in a quiet undertone. I turned to her, glaring.

"Is she serious?" I asked, because I couldn't help it. I didn't get the vibe that she was racist or anything, but just incredibly.. offensive. She had no tact, none at all. And if she wasn't so freakishly grating, _that's_ what would remind me of Brittany about her. Britt has a problem with tact and saying things at the right time, but she wasn't abrasive like Motta. Or maybe she was, to some people. But the difference was, I adored Brittany, and I really wanted to throttle Sugar.

"Aha!" Sugar said, oblivious. She pulled out another little package from her purse. I stared at it. It was Mexican candy. "See, I got this for you, too." She slid it across the table to me. "Ole!" She snapped her fingers.

**Xxxx**

Quinn was laughing hysterically at me when we left the dining hall. I had spent the next half hour showing considerable restraint in not simply decking the loud-mouthed bitch. She kept making Mexican references and speaking in butchered Spanish. It would have been amusing if it hadn't been so freakishly annoying.

"Where did she even buy Mexican candy?" Quinn snickered. She had taken the candy Motta offered, chewing on the taffy and sucking on the lollipops.

"Uh, I don't know. I'm still stunned that she thinks Italians and Mexicans are related." I really was. Who was that damn ignorant?

We walked up to our dorms, Quinn mostly laughing, me just scowling. When we got into the room I began changing into an exercise outfit.

"Hey, can you take me into town? I have orientation at kickboxing." I rolled my eyes. Actually, I really just had to pay for the three months of lessons, sign some paperwork, and meet my instructor. My classes didn't start until Monday.

"Sure," Quinn said musingly, and began to change as well. She noticed the discarded jewelry box that I had placed absently on my computer desk. "What's that?"

"Oh." I frowned at it. "Sugar gave me that. Just, poof, here you go," I said. I hadn't even looked at what was inside of it. I had meant to give it back to her, because it was just weird, but I had forgotten.

Quinn opened the little box without preamble, and nestled there were a set of diamond earrings. Quinn's brow shot up and she turned to look at me, almost accusingly.

My eyes widened and I looked back at her, a little baffled. "What? That bitch is coo-coo."

"Mhm." Quinn tilted her head. "And this is the first time she's ever talked to you?"

"Uhh.. yeah." I frowned, then turned to start brushing my hair out so I could secure it into a tight pony tail.

"Those are really expensive earrings to just be giving to a total stranger." Quinn said neutrally, then set the jewelry down. I turned to look at her, still confused.

"Yeah, she's batty. Nutty. Bonkers. Out of her damned mind." I said. Then it dawned on me.

"Oh, shit," I said around a huge grin, and then I turned to smother her in a big hug. She was caught off guard, and laughed a little lightly in her surprise. "You think I'm cheating on you with bird-beak, Quinn?"

Quinn laughed, startled. "Uh, no, not like you could really _cheat_ on me anyway," She said, prying herself away from me. "I was just beginning to wonder how I measured up, if you were also interested in _her._"

"Oh, god, Tink, you're almost as batshit as she is." I was smiling huge, because the whole thing was both preposterous and hilarious. "Green is a terrible color on you. Don't worry, there's no other girl at Atherton who can hold a candle to you."

Quinn seemed to preen at this, though she was trying not to show it. She slapped at me. "Let's just get this over with. I have physics homework."

Quinn pulled in front of the little building that offered kickboxing lessons for beginners. She stayed in the car and I hopped out, swinging the glass door open and rushing inside. I walked up to the counter and got the attention of the lady behind the counter. I slapped down my father's credit card. "I need to sign up for three months of lessons."

She set down a packet of paperwork in front of me and I began to fill it out. I felt my phone buzzing against me so I pulled it out.

_-Going to get some ice cream. Want any?_

It was Quinn. I shook my head slightly. _–No way, Blondie._

I was still convinced that she was making it her lot in life to make me fat.

Once I was done filling out the paperwork, I handed it back to the lady. She swiped the card and I signed the receipt. She let me know that they'd be calling me between tomorrow and Monday with a definite instructor and start time.

I left the tiny office, because it was suffocating, and the light outside was really pretty. Autumn was picking up its pace now, and before long it would be October and chilly. I remembered I needed to buy an Atherton jacket. I started wandering around the parking lot, waiting for Quinn to get back, when I suddenly noticed a girl about my age crouched down by something. I realized with faint horror that it was a cat, and it looked pretty dead.

I usually ignore people in these types of situations, but come on, this was her cat. It made me think of Brittany and how devastated she'd be whenever Lord T finally kicked the bucket. I walked over to the girl slowly. She had thin, medium brown hair that fell loosely to her shoulders. I couldn't see her face but I assumed she was upset.

"Hey, are you all right?" I said, a little nervously. She turned to look at me. She had a square face and light blue eyes.

"Yes, I'm fine." Her voice was even and measured. "I found this deceased feline. Do you want to help me dissect it?"

My eyebrows shot up and I took a step back. "Whoa, what? This isn't your cat?"

She shook her head, and I noticed she had latex gloves on. She looked like she had been poking the cat and wanted to pick it up. My stomach did a nauseous roll.

"It was a stray I assume. I'm Brynn Thomas." She went to offer me her hand, and I recoiled.

"Ew, cat guts." I said by way of explanation. She didn't seem bothered by my reluctance to shake her hand though.

"No. Not yet." She said it with a relish that I couldn't understand. There was something so completely _weird _about her that now I was uncomfortable and I deeply regretted not staying away from me.

"Umm, well, you have fun with that.." I said awkwardly. I turned, searching the road for Quinn's pale green car.

"I can sense your discomfort. My brother tells me that I possess social ineptitude." Brynn said, matter-of-factly. I rolled my eyes towards her, and fidgeted.

"I want to be a scientist. I want to dissect the cat to study it," She offered. I nodded, slowly.

"Yeah, that's still kind of freakish," I told her, in all honesty.

"It's entirely rational."

I stared at her. I pulled out my cell phone and started texting. _–Holy shit, where are you, Fabray?_

_-Around the corner, what's the emergency?_

I got the message right before I caught sight of her turning in. "That's my ride. I've gotta go." I told the girl.

"Wait!" She said, and took some steps towards Quinn's car. "You go to Atherton, right?"

I nodded mutely. How did she know that?

"Are you going there now?"

I stared. Then nodded again.

"Can you possibly drive me there?"

I gaped at her. And then, as if on automatic, I turned to Quinn and gestured for her to roll down the window. "Uh, this girl wants to know if we can give her a ride to the school." I widened my eyes and shook my head slowly.

Quinn didn't catch on. "Sure. Hop in."

I groaned silently, then opened the door and slid in. Brynn turned and took off her latex gloves, tucking them into a plastic bag. I was just grateful she decided to leave the cat carcass.

Quinn was giving me a puzzled look, but it was too late for me to explain before the girl slid in the back seat.

"So, you go to Atherton?" Quinn asked, lifting her face to regard Brynn's in the rearview.

"Yes." She was short, not offering anything further. Quinn quirked a brow.

"What grade are you in?"

Brynn shifted. "I'm a sophomore. And you aren't a freshman, because you can drive," She said with authority. "But I've never noticed you, so you must be a transfer." She turned to look at me. "Both of you."

Quinn shifted, a little uneasily. "Yes, that's right."

"I know."

I closed my eyes and pressed my head against the headrest. _Really, Lopez? You're a freak magnet._

"How did you get into town?" Quinn asked, trying to ease the tension in the car.

"I walked."

Even I started at that. It was a 45-minute drive from the middle of Morrow to Atherton, easy. I couldn't imagine walking that distance, especially not in the hour and a half since classes ended.

"That's crazy." Quinn said.

"No, it's logical." Brynn contradicted.

I rubbed my forehead, deciding it was safer to remain silent. I already knew Quinn was going to be a little peeved at me for letting this creepy girl get into her car.

"What were you doing in town?" Quinn ventured.

"I was collecting feline skeletal specimens."

Quinn snapped her eyes towards me, inclining her head as if to say, _what the fuck? Is she serious?_

I only nodded slowly, with emphasis.

"Ooohkay.. what for?" Quinn couldn't seem to help herself. I just wanted this whole uncomfortable conversation to stop.

"I intended to dissect them. But the only one I found was still too fresh."

I gagged, and Quinn squirmed uncomfortable.

"Are you talking about roadkill?"

"Well, I'm not certain it died from being struck by a moving vehicle."

Quinn frowned. "Why do you want to dissect dead cats?" She asked slowly.

"To learn." Brynn said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I want to know how it died." She paused. "Also, I'm very fascinated with bones."

Oh, god, this girl was so fucking _creepy._

Quinn surprised me by smiling a little bit. "I love bones too. Well, human bones." She said.

I gawked at her, lost for words. Do what? Fairy princess Quinn liked _skeletons?_

"Eugh, Fabray, that's gross." I said.

"It's not gross." Brynn interrupted. "I intend to study human remains for a living as an adult."

Quinn nodded, not at all put off by this statement. I just stared at her, and then glanced back at Brynn, as if they were both crazy. I felt like I had been kidnapped into an alternate dimension full of weird creepy girls.

"Do you know where the local cemeteries are?" Quinn asked.

Brynn nodded. "Yes."

"Well maybe you can show me sometime. I love cemeteries."

The breath wheezed out of my chest. I felt dizzy and a little lightheaded, like maybe I was going to have a panic attack soon. No freaking way I was going to let Quinn go _anywhere_ with Brynn, at any time, but especially not to a damn _graveyard._

We pulled through the gates at Atherton a few minutes later, and Quinn pulled into the parking lot that housed the student cars. I waited for Brynn to get out without saying anything before I turned to Quinn, who had also paused. "Okay, now go park your car somewhere else."

Quinn lifted a brow. "Why..?"

"Um, because if you leave it here, she'll know where it is, and I think she'll try to bomb it or something." I shrugged. That girl had given me the willies.

Quinn laughed. "Stop being crazy, Santana." She turned the car off and opened her door.

I scowled. "Me, crazy? You were buddying up to the girl. She's a total freak."

Quinn smirked at me, tugging on my wrist, and leading me inside.

"What is it about me that attracts crazy people?" I asked her, incredulously. "First there's you, and you're just generally psychotic. Then there's Sugar. And now this unbelievable Brynn girl." I closed my eyes, shaking my head, as we made our way back up the stairs again.

"Don't forget Brittany," Quinn chimed, and it made me scowl.

"She's not even a fraction as crazy as you."

Quinn laughed.

**A/N:** So I know it's short but it's kind of a filler chapter. Yay for Brynn! Twenty points if anyone can figure out who I based her off of.. and yes it's shamelessly playing on Dianna's real life obsession with bones, but I think it's cute and would be fun to write into Quinn's character. I have some pretty good ideas about what to do with it.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **Sorry for no update yesterday, I had a huge migraine. Also, yes, Brynn is based off of Brennan from Bones. :) I think in an alternate universe where she and Santana went to school together would just, be hilarious. So here it is – though she isn't in this chapter, you will see her again.

**Chapter 15**

I smiled down at Quinn, leisurely, running my hands along the insides of her soft thighs. The little sounds coming from her were desperate. I leaned forward to place a soft kiss against the inside of her knee, my hand creeping forward to rub gently at her crotch.

"Santana," Quinn said, breathy, and I smiled, sneaking my fingers underneath the seam of her panties, pushing against the flood of heat.

"Santana, wake up," Quinn murmured, and I felt her fingers circle my wrist. She gave it a little shake, and abruptly, I opened my eyes.

My body was pressed against hers from behind, my face rubbing against her bare shoulder, my hand snaked over her hip and beneath her underwear. Immediately, my face flushed, and I tensed, drawing my hand out from over her. I flipped over onto my back and let out a groan, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes and rubbing furiously.

"Damn it," I swore into the darkness.

Quinn chuckled, though it was slurred and drowsy from sleep. I felt her toss on the bed and roll over, snuggling her body against mine. It made all the nerves in me hum and sing with want.

"What were you dreaming about?" Quinn murmured against my ear, and I had to repress a shudder.

I scowled into the blackness, and then in a fit of temper just rolled over, giving my back to Quinn.

"We can't keep sleeping in bed together," I told her angrily. "Until this thing is over."

Quinn spooned against me, rubbing her face against the back of my neck. "It's adorable," She told me, running her fingers through my hair. I shook my head.

See, this situation was getting desperate. I became sexually active at fourteen. And ever since then, I had never gone more than a week, or maybe two, without a good roll. It just didn't happen. We were honing in on the fourth week of school and there was nobody around to take care of me – except for Quinn, who was damnably flirtatious and sexy, but ultimately left me feeling unfulfilled. This bet thing was driving me crazy. I didn't have a backup, like Puck, to call on. Or even any other loser from the football team that I'd occasionally used. And Brittany.. just thinking about her was like picking at an old wound; it hurt, but I barely noticed it anymore, because I was so used to it.

I was honestly starting to think that the sexual anorexia was getting to me. Things that I had never considered sexy before, suddenly were – the way Quinn brushed her teeth or the way she put on eyeliner. I caught myself staring at her lips during algebra, while she ate, while she talked. I couldn't get too close to her or my body responded in irrational ways.

I could tell Quinn was drifting back to sleep beside me, and I decided to try to do the same. But I was restless and annoyed, now. Annoyance is pretty much my pat response to everything. I was trying, not for the first time, to figure out a way to solve this little problem so I could go back to being regular, bad ass Santana, and not this quivering pile of nerves that got turned on by a smile or a laugh from a very self-assured blonde.

Right as I was beginning to drift off, it hit me: I had to win this stupid bet. It's about the only way I could maintain my dignity around Quinn, considering we'd be spending the duration of the school year right on top of one another (and part of me hoped that it was _literally_). It meant I was going to have to turn on the seduction by about a thousand, and give in to letting her touch me, first – but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make. I smiled sleepily into the dark room, and shifted back against Quinn's warm body, abruptly comfortable with the contact. I almost felt sorry for Quinn. She wouldn't know what to do with herself.

**Xxxx**

The next day was Saturday, so we were going to spend it shopping in town and maybe hit a movie. It was the second weekend in a row we hadn't gone home to Lima, and our friends were all bugging us to come. But Quinn had a test to study for and I didn't feel like getting caught up in the hysteria that always gripped Lima in some way.

I worried, briefly, if flirting with a girl would be the same as flirting with a boy.. boys were so pathetic and easy. I scowled a little bit at that thought, because, well, when Quinn wasn't even _trying_ she turned me on, so did that make me more pathetic than a boy? I quashed the thought ruthlessly, staring resolutely out the window of Quinn's bug on the drive into town. My left hand reached out and rested, gently, on her knee. She turned to glance at me, but I didn't make eye contact, so she turned back to the road.

I began to rub gently against her knee, which was covered by a loose-fitting skirt that sort reminded me of hippies. She had a long sleeved, loose blouse-y type top on and her hair was pulled back into a short pony tail. She looked fresh and pretty, and reminded me of a gypsy.

I was wearing snug jeans and a tight halter top, and wore my hair in a long pony tail that curled down my back. I had thought about amping up the sexual appeal and plastering on a ton of makeup, but then decided against it. Quinn had already told me she thought I was pretty without it on.. and she wasn't a boy by any means. I wondered, idly, if I bothered her as much as she bothered me. I doubted it. She always seemed so self-possessed and in control. It was one of the maddening things about her. I wanted to watch her lose control and go absolutely crazy.

Well, I was going to take care of that. We were going to have sex tonight, and Quinn was going to lose this bet. I was determined.

As we hopped out of the car, now parked in front of Lima's only strip mall, I watched Quinn and tried to form a plan of attack. This whole arrangement was based on the premise of flirtation and seduction, which would drive the other person to want to give in. Of course, now that I thought about it, she had designed it, knowing I was most likely going to lose. I scowled a bit at the thought, trailing Quinn inside a little novelty shop that sold weird knick-knacks, like picture frames, candle holders, and wall art. It smelled weird and dusty and kinda like incense.

It made my stomach tie in knots to think about the implication of this bet, now that I realized she had probably put some thought into it rather than just suggesting it, spur of the moment. Because it alluded to the fact that Quinn knew I wouldn't be able to resist her flirting with me – and she was _so sure_ she could resist me. Why was that? I eyed her critically, flipping over an elephant carved entirely out of rosewood. It had tiny gold bands on its tusks. Did Quinn just assume she knew me well enough to know that I have almost no patience for foreplay? Or was it that she knew she wasn't as attracted to me, as I was to her?

That thought kept playing in my head, over and over again, until I was almost shaking. It made me feel insecure and small. I placed the elephant back down, moving towards a rack that held wispy, gaudy scarves. I ran my fingers through a few idly. It was hard to think about wanting Quinn more than she wanted me, but I felt like it must be true. I wasn't used to that – I knew with every single guy I'd ever slept with, it was the polar opposite: he was dying for me, and I could barely tolerate the feel of his hands on me. And Brittany and I had been like a force of nature, coming at each other with equal parts frenzy and need. It never occurred to me to think which of the two of us was more wrapped up in the other. Sometimes I had the uncomfortable feeling that Brittany wanted a lot more, actually.. and not that I _didn't_ want Brittany, but the 'more' she was craving for was just something I couldn't provide.

Now, with Quinn, I felt the insane anxiety of not being good enough, or not hot enough, or whatever. It tied me up in knots and made me slightly nauseous. It was awful. I hated this feeling. I had, in fact, spent most of my life trying to make absolutely sure I never felt like I wasn't good enough for someone, or that I was at their mercy. I realized that this bet did just that. It was evil and I needed to end it.

I strode up behind Quinn, determined, now to put her as off-guard as possible. I was tired of being the only one hot and bothered all the time. I smiled, leaning over her to see what she was holding, and she jolted a little bit, surprised to find me right behind her. I turned my face to look at hers, and I was aware of the way her eyes darted to my lips and then back to my eyes before she replaced the picture frame she was holding. I placed my hands against both of her hips, running my palms along her body, then snugged them around her to give her a brief hug.

"You're in a good mood," Quinn said, a little awkwardly, pulling herself out of my embrace and moving on towards a display of bracelets.

I furrowed my brow at her turned back. This was going to be harder than I thought. I came up beside her, standing close, and began to toy with the same bracelet she was picking at.

Quinn quirked her face into a small smile, arching an eyebrow at me. I hated that look she gave me – it was so arrogant. I wanted to push her up against the wall and start kissing her. I had to fight the urge, because, well, the whole point of this was to get _her_ to kiss _me._ Or something.

"Are you going to buy anything?" Quinn asked. I shrugged.

"Maybe. I haven't sent Britt anything in a while. She's beginning to wonder if we've forgotten about her." It was true. Britt's text messages had been pretty morose lately, and our phone conversations had been short. I was sad about it, but I didn't know what to do about it.

Quinn pursed her lips speculatively, fiddling with a bracelet that was composed of sea-green stones cut into squares. "What about this?"

I trailed my hand down her arm, fingertips brushing lightly against her skin, before I rested one along the smooth stone. "Hmm. It's pretty. She'd probably like it."

Quinn was staring at me quizzically, before she blinked and then turned, still holding the bracelet. "Okay. Well, I'll buy this for her, you pick something else out."

I smiled smugly at her back.

I was sitting down on a booth in front of some changing rooms, flipping through a magazine, waiting for Quinn to come out and show off some of her jeans. I had decided this was the _perfect_ opportunity to augment her wardrobe, and she reluctantly agreed. I had piled a stack of jeans and blouses so high she was going to have to make two trips, since she'd met the limit of how many garments one could try on it. I was okay with this. I was also resolutely determined to go back to the dorm room and start throwing away a lot of the stuff Quinn wore that was particularly horrible. It filled me with a sort of delicious excitement to think about it.

"You're not going to look like a Quaker anymore, Q," I said idly, since we were the only two in the area.

"I don't know, Santana," Quinn said speculatively. "Some of these shirts you picked are kind of skanky."

I rolled my eyes. "Quinn, seriously, live a little. Most likely these are going to be the best years of your life, body-wise, so you might as well take full advantage."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Quinn asked, scathingly.

I smirked. "Just, you love cheesecake, Blondie. It's going to catch up with you eventually."

"Coach Sylvester ruined you," Quinn muttered.

"Let me see the new and improved Quinn Fabray," I said, setting down the magazine. There was some rustling around inside the dressing room, before she cracked the door open and peered out. Finally she nudged it open completely.

It wasn't as if Quinn looked totally different or unmentionably sexy; she just looked _normal._ I wondered if this is why she chose to dress like she did, all the time.. because it was either look just like the average teenage girl, a slut, or a nun. I frowned. Of course she would pick door number three; early conditioning by her deacon daddy assured that.

"Well, it looks nice, Q."

Quinn raised her brows, sweeping her gaze down herself. She didn't seem pleased with my compliment. I flashed her a deviant grin and then stood up, approaching her slowly. "Let me help you pick what to try on next."

Quinn's gaze snapped to mine warily, and then out over the store, noting the other shoppers were busy doing other things. I smiled, then slid in beside her, not waiting for her response.

"Santana," Quinn said warningly, clicking the door shut. I smiled at her, sitting down on the tiny bench built into the cubicle.

"I'll be good." I said, with absolutely no intention of doing so.

Quinn scowled at me before she began stripping off the clothes. I waited until she had replaced the blouse and jeans back on their respective hangers before I stood up and moved behind her, pressing a warm kiss against the nape of her neck. Quinn gasped a bit, then turned around quickly, her eyes wild.

"Shh." I said, a grin curving my lips. I began kissing along the length of her collarbone, smiling into her skin at the way her breath was hitching in her throat.

I decided that the key to this was not to _touch_ her, because if I did, I'd get distracted. So I held my hands behind my back and clasped my own fingers, even though they were itching and humming to run over her bare, smooth skin.

It was working. Quinn was shifting uneasily, and I had her cornered against the smooth wall of the dressing room and myself. Her arms were hanging limply by her side, before she finally lifted them to tangle one in my hair, and the other resting along my hip. I had to bite back a triumphant smile. I shifted, then angled myself forward, pressing my body against hers, before I finally lifted my face and pressed my mouth against hers.

It was gratifying the way Quinn responded, all teeth and tongue and rabid hunger. It turned me on in a new way, to realize I had this effect on her after all – that maybe she was just as crazy for this as I was. I kept my hands tightly clenched, the only contact between us the pressure of my lips against hers and the restless shifting of her body against mine. She was running one of her hands along my back, underneath my shirt, the other gripping my hair tightly.

It happened so quickly I didn't expect it, but she suddenly flipped us, causing my stomach to jerk and drop with eagerness. Now I was pressed against the wall, and Quinn was kissing me furiously, our hot, humid breaths filling up the tiny space. I felt like I was drowning on her. My hands were squeezed in tight fists, the nails digging into my palms. Quinn tore herself away from my lips, then angled down to press hot, moist kisses along my neck. I closed my eyes and groaned.

Her spare hand was inching upwards, sneaking underneath the hard wire of my bra, to tease the sensitive flesh there. My abdomen tightened, sending rivulets of heat up and down my whole body. I was dying from the urge to throw her on the floor and run my hands all over her body. It was testing everything in me for me to stay still and let her work her hands and mouth over me.

It was a heady feeling, to be dominated in this way, giving in to Quinn's desire to touch me and kiss me wherever she wanted. At first, my whole being rebelled against it – I wanted to do this to _her_, desperately – but I kept reminding myself that this meant I was going to _win._ And then, after that, I'd be able to do whatever I wanted to Quinn, whenever I wanted.

Finally, when her hand started to trace the length of my jeans and even began to dip beneath it, I clasped her wrist and pulled on it gently. Quinn lifted her head, meeting my eyes in question, and the look on her face almost undid me. It was full of passion and desire, her eyes swamped with need. It made my whole body quiver.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," I murmured, smiling prettily at her. Her eyes narrowed, as if she was swimming out of a fog of arousal, trying to make sense of what I said. That gave me a delicious thrill, seeing an emotion that I so often felt, mirrored on her. It was exulting.

I could tell Quinn wasn't used to this, because she kept shifting uncertainly, rubbing her body against mine. She cupped my face with her free hand and ran her thumb along the line of my jaw. I smiled, turning my face to kiss her hand gently.

"You okay there, Quinnie?" I wasn't able to repress the smirk evident in my tone. She frowned at me, then took a step back.

"It's not so nice when it's you." I told her, teasingly. Quinn scowled, then started pulling on her skirt and blouse. I walked over to her and ran my hand in a soothing circle along the small of her back. She straightened up and gave me a narrow look.

"Say something," I bit my lip to stop from grinning at her. She shoved a pile of jeans and shirts into my arms, and picked up the rest, opening the door of the dressing room wordlessly.

I tried to feel a little bad about it, but I didn't. Teasing Quinn was fun. It was an emotion akin to revenge, since she always got one up on _me_ and left me feeling flustered and embarrassed, like a boy caught with a boner or something.

I trailed after her, up to the checkout, where she selected a few items to buy. She studiously refused to look at me, and her face was pinched and flushed.

On the way out, I linked my arm through her elbow, holding her bags for her, matching her pace. She kept her gaze diverted elsewhere and tried to ignore me. I gave her a little squeeze and broke away from her to open her car door for her. I smiled innocently at her furrowed brow, and then closed the door after she sat down. Rounding the car, I opened my own door and sat down, shifting to put the bags of clothes into the backseat.

"What movie d'ya wanna watch, Tink?" I said casually, flipping down the visor mirror to check my makeup. I ran a finger over my smudged lip gloss, evening it out a bit, then flipped it back up.

Quinn was staring at me. I got the eerie feeling that she was maybe seeing me for the first time. I smiled gently at her, because I knew she was confused or a little baffled. That's all right. I understood the feeling.

"What about Life As We Know It?" I said, because she hadn't said anything, just started up the car and began driving towards the local theater. "It's got Katherine Heigl in it, and Josh Duhamel."

Quinn glanced at me. "It's about a baby." She left the sentence hanging, and I immediately kicked myself. Of course Quinn wouldn't want to see that. I frowned.

"Okay. What kinda movie do you want to see?"

She tilted her head, thinking about it. "Case 39?"

I huffed out a heavy breath. "You know I hate scary movies."

The smile lit her face immediately. "Sounds perfect."

I sighed, relenting. There wasn't much else playing, anyway. When we arrived at the theater, twilight was edging in on the day, turning everything purple and soft. The wind picked up, turning the previously balmy day chilly. It was early October, and everything would be covered in snow soon. I regretted not making it back to Lima this weekend. I figured once the snow started, Quinn wouldn't want to make the drive.

I was also regretting my scant clothing, just walking from the car to the theater. Quinn came up beside me and gave me a jacket. I smiled gratefully at her, and linked my arm through hers again as we waited in line to buy the tickets.

I stared at the cardboard cutout which advertised Case 39, feeling a lump of panic rise. "This is probably going to end up being stupid like the Orphan." I told her, trying to sound less afraid than I really was. It was kinda starting to creep me out that Quinn was into all this dark stuff, like graveyards, human bones, and scary movies.

"I'll hold your hand if you get scared," Quinn said quietly, a big smirk plastered on her face. I scowled at her, aware that she was teasing me.

Quinn bought two giant sodas and a huge tub of popcorn, over my constant barrage of comments about her ending up looking like a house. Who knew that underneath that sparkly, pixie-girl façade lived a person with the appetite of a teenage boy?

We sat in the quiet theater, nestled around dozens of other couples, everyone murmuring softly to each other and scrolling through their cell phones before the movie started. I wrapped Quinn's jacket around me like a blanket, and rested my feet on the seat in front of me, hunkering down. Quinn was sitting with her ankles crossed and was munching determinedly at the popcorn.

I noticed she left off after the movie started, placing the huge barrel in the seat next to her. I decided that if I spent the whole movie watching _her,_ rather than the film, I'd be okay. I hated to admit it but I really didn't like scary movies. It was a perk of being Brittany's best friend – she never wanted to watch them, either.

Quinn leaned over to me. "Stop staring at me, freak," She whispered, with the hint of a smile on her lips, and she threaded her fingers through mine beneath the cover of the hoodie.

I squeezed her hand and turned to the movie, watching it warily.

She chuckled every time I jumped. "I hate you!" I told her vehemently after one scene had me muffling a scream against her shoulder. She just smiled, lifting up the armrest that separated us, and allowed me to burrow into her, hiding my face away from the scary parts.

"You're such a pussy." Quinn whispered with my face pressed against her. I lifted my hand above the cover of her hoodie and gave her the finger.

Less than two hours later, the movie ended, and I unfolded myself shakily. I had been on pins and needles the whole time, my heart hammering and the copper taste of panic sitting behind my tongue. I needed air. Horror movies really got to me – they made me feel like I had to piss and shit at the same time, and sometimes cry.

"It's cute, how you're scared of them," Quinn said soothingly, running her palm up and down my bare arm as we walked out of the theater. I just scowled at her, yanking her jacket on. It was full on dark outside now, and it was bound to be colder than it was when we came in.

"I _told_ you that I hate scary movies. We should have seen the one with the baby in it," I said, with feeling. Quinn just angled her head towards me and smiled.

Back in the car, my nerves were finally starting to settle, though my muscles were sore from being tense for so long. Quinn reached over and patted my knee gently.

"Let's just get back to Atherton before some scary demon girl comes after us." I was only slightly joking. Now that it was nighttime, I was doubly afraid and thinking about the movie.

"You're joking," Quinn said, grinning, as she merged onto the highway.

I scowled. "No! Scary movies really freak me out! I'm going to have nightmares now."

Quinn just smiled at that. I leaned forward and cranked her radio on to fill in the silence. I started playing on my phone to distract myself from the dark, lonely highway.

I was never so glad to see the warm lights of Atherton ahead of us, or so glad to be parking in the brightly lit lot. I really wanted to be upstairs, in our room, underneath the blankets and talking about other things. It wasn't very late; barely ten. But I wanted to go to sleep so it would be day again.

Once we were in our room, I started to undress, ignoring Quinn's little smirks that she kept throwing my way. I wished that we had a TV so that we could put on some happy movie. It made me miss Brittany and our Disney movie sleep overs. Once I was in pajamas with my hair brushed out, I climbed underneath my blankets and glared at Quinn, watching her as she did the same.

She took more time than I did, partially because she was so careful to fold all her dirty clothes and neatly put back things like hair ties, brushes, and makeup remover towelettes. Not so much me. I just laid them wherever. Quinn still bitched about it – well, she wouldn't be _Quinn_ if she didn't – but I was less afraid of her going all _Carrie_ on me about it than I was in the beginning.

Finally, when she was down to a tank top and underwear, she turned to me. Quinn was one of those girls who got all sweaty and hot while sleeping, even if it was below zero outside, so she wore basically nothing to bed. Most of the time I found this ridiculously hot, especially the nights we slept together. But right now my mind wasn't thinking lewd thoughts – odd, I know – because I was so focused on making sure that the window was closed tightly, and the drapes were drawn. She saw me staring at it and then smiled, repressing a laugh. She leaned over my desk to adjust the curtain, making sure that no crack of glass was peeking through.

"Santana, you're so _cute,_" She said, settling in bed beside me. I scowled, scooting over, preferring to be locked between her and the wall, that way if anything spooky decided to find us, she'd be the first to go.

"Stop calling me that, Q," I said warningly. Quinn reached up and clicked off the lamp, then snuggled into the blankets and pillows.

"Why? You are." Quinn's voice whispered in the darkness.

I poked her once in the ribs. "No, I'm not. Cute is definitely not a word used to describe Santana Lopez."

"Well, I think so," Quinn said, wrapping her arms around me and pulling me into her. I didn't resist. I liked having her close to me, the physical reassurance of her body in the darkness. It made me feel safe, even though that was a silly emotion.

Quinn was running her hand up and down my arm, from shoulder to wrist, lightly. It was soothing. It made me feel like I might be able to fall asleep without having night terrors.

She propped her head up on her fist and looked down at me, and in the gloom I could make out her face. She was smiling a little bit. I didn't know exactly what she could see, because it was so dark.

She slowly lowered her head towards me, and something about the way she did it had my heart knocking in my chest. She brushed her lips lightly against mine. My heart beat faster, and all I could hear was the rush of blood in my ears.

She slowly, deliberately ran her tongue along my lower lip, using her teeth to gently nibble there, before she finally swallowed my mouth with hers. It was another one of those achingly slow kisses that turned my body into liquid fire, starting somewhere around my navel and radiating outwards. My pulse was beating thickly in my neck and I felt like I was suffocating, but in a delicious way, a way that made me feel like I was swimming through warm molasses and I would never reach the surface.

I was filled with the scent and taste of her, the toothpaste from her recently brushed teeth and the smell of her perfume and shampoo, but also something entirely exotic, something ultimately _Quinn._ I forced myself to keep my hands by my sides, which wasn't hard, because my body felt liquid and heavy, swamped with desire and need, but utterly unable to react beyond the fervent kissing.

Quinn slowly edged away from my mouth, now running her hand gently along my torso beneath my shirt, rubbing her fingertips into my ribs and along the valley of my stomach, tracing around my belly button. I knew I was wet even though we had only been kissing. My skin felt like it was on fire, and everywhere she touched quivered and jumped. I had to close my eyes because I felt like I was going to float away. Quinn lowered her mouth to press against my neck, just below my ear, and I bit my lip on a moan, shifting beneath her.

Quinn was running her mouth over my neck now, pressing harder against me, using her fingers to brush against my breast and then venture upwards, over the exposed nipple. She rolled it beneath her fingertips, causing me to lurch and arch beneath her, my breath exploding in ragged gasps. There was a persistent tugging down the center of my body, ending at the junction between my legs, which was making me move restlessly. I wanted more contact and more pressure.

Quinn shifted suddenly, lifting her leg over my body and resting herself directly on my hips. My quick intake of breath had her smiling in the darkness. She used her hands to bunch up my shirt around my neck, then lowered herself to press warm, firm kisses along my sides and my ribs, finally lapping out along the underside of my breasts. She tasted along the dip between them, sucking gently, avoiding the nipples though they were hard and aching. I groaned, grinding myself into her, tangling my fingers into the sheets beneath me. I felt her breath against one nipple and I had to fight the urge to grab her head and slam it against it. It was driving me insane, these light, breathy kisses.

Finally, as if taking pity on me, she licked her tongue over one, and then the other. I rocked beneath her, moaning. I felt her fingers squeeze against my sides, trying to control my body movements, as her mouth sucked and nibbled.

I was losing control. One hand darted out to drag at Quinn's tight tank top, ripping it over her head, while the other immediately flashed up and started running along the smooth skin of her back, her chest, and her stomach. I was dying to flip us over and take her. It was too much, the bet be damned.

Quinn's breathing hitched up a notch with the sudden contact, and she shifted, allowing me to rid her of her top. But before she settled back down she caught both of my hands in hers, and raised them above my head, pinning them there.

"Be still," She murmured into my ear, and I groaned, turning my head and biting my lip. _Oh, god, you're killing me, Quinn._

"Fuck," the word came out with an explosion of breath as Quinn slid her naked torso against mine, her body radiating heat. I trembled, thighs clenching wildly, stomach quivering. The feel of Quinn's breasts brushing against mine was probably one of the most erotic things I'd ever experienced. It sent little zaps of pleasure darting all over my body.

Quinn began kissing along my collarbone, lapping her tongue along the hollow there, before she dipped down and pressed hot, wet kisses along my chest, and finally my stomach. I was shifting beneath her, begging for contact against my center, fingers digging into my own pillow.

She skirted her hand along my abdomen, and then pressed her fingers against the seam of my pajama bottoms, sneaking beneath them. The breath caught in my throat as she began exploring there, running her fingers along the fabric of my underwear, rubbing the pad of her thumb along my mound. I was soaking wet and bucking beneath her, out of my mind with lust.

Quinn paused, lifting her face to rake her gaze over mine, and I closed my eyes tightly. It felt strange to be lying like this beneath her – I had always imagined it would be the other way around, and I'd be staring down at her.

Slowly, she slipped her hand beneath the elastic of my panties, and I could feel her watching my face. I pressed my hips upwards against her, encouraging her. She slowly ran her fingers against the flood of warmth that met her, slipping between my lips and touching gently among the folds.

I was panting now, desperate. I shifted suddenly, sliding out from underneath her, and using my legs, trapped her beneath me. She fell with a little oomph against the mattress. She somehow managed to keep her hand in my pants that whole time, and now, with me above her, she had a better angle. I leaned over her with my hands planted on either side of her shoulders, rocking into her fingers, encouraging her to continue.

She smiled into my shoulder, using her free hand to yank down my pants and underwear so that they tangled at my knees. I lifted up, allowing her to yank them down over my calves and off of me. I resettled on top of her, and she shifted, managing to slide the meat of her palm against my clit. I bucked, grunting, and then ground against her. Quinn was light and gentle with her touches, and I could feel her watching my face, though it was dark and my hair was cascading around us. I kept my lip clamped between my teeth, fighting back every moan. I was breathing hard and ragged, my center clenching spasmodically, my clit throbbing.

Finally, after what seemed like years, Quinn inserted a finger into me. I had to fight the urge to ram myself down on top of her. Breathing shallowly, I leaned down, resting my forehead against her shoulder. "Oh, god, Quinn," I murmured, shaking.

She began dragging the finger in and out, slowly, and I began rocking in time with her, grateful for the friction. "Use two fingers," I whispered, because she was slowly winding me up and I felt like I was dying from the anticipation of it.

Quinn smiled, shifting a bit so that she could press a hot kiss against my neck. She slid a finger in at the same time she bit down on my pulse, causing me to gasp. She began to press them in and out, and finally started curling her fingers once they were inside.

My hips jerked at the sudden flood of pleasure, and the movement caused me to rub my clit against her palm. I felt myself tighten against her, and shifting, I began rocking in earnest, rubbing myself against her hand and riding her fingers.

Quinn's free hand snaked between us and cupped a breast, squeezing it, playing with the nipple. I was still arched over her, my breath exploding against her neck, muffling little sounds against her. I wound my hands into the bed sheets, moving faster, feeling myself teetering on the edge.

Quinn gave one last, final shove, curling her fingers and pressing against me, and I spasmed, my whole body shaking against her, seizing up, before I shuddered and ground myself against her. When it was over, my arms and legs felt weak, my skin sticky with sweat. I slowly lowered myself on top of her, gulping in breaths, with my head resting against her chest.

I could hear her heartbeat. It was hammering. My face was red and I felt weird, completely relaxed but utterly exposed all at once. I was aware of the fact that I was ass naked. My whole body hummed and vibrated.

Quinn lifted the hand that wasn't trapped beneath us and smoothed my hair down, and then reflexively brought it over my back, squeezing me to her. I shifted, then slid beside her, allowing her to do.. well, whatever she was going to do, with her wet fingers.

Quinn shifted and turned towards me, threading her arms around my body, and I snuggled into her, nestling my face against the crook of her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" She whispered.

I nodded into her, making a little humming noise.

"That was.. different." Quinn said, and I slowly opened my eyes against her.

"Yeah? Different how?" I asked, a little guarded. I never forgot for a second that Quinn hadn't had sex with a girl, and probably had only had sex with Puckerman a few times. It reminded me a little of how I felt after I first started having sex.. insecure and anxious, worried that I did everything right.

"It was good. It felt nice." Quinn said quickly, as if she was afraid she'd said the wrong thing.

I smiled, chuckling a bit. "I'm glad." I didn't have a lot else to say. My mind was pleasantly blank.

"It was not at all how I thought it'd be." Quinn continued, hesitantly.

"Mhm?" I encouraged her to go on, even though my breathing was shallow and I felt like I was going to drift off at any moment.

"Yeah, I somehow thought.. I don't know. That it'd be harder or something." She sounded confused.

I peeked an eye open, forcing myself to wake up a bit. "Why?"

"Uh, I don't know. Everyone says making a girl cum is hard." Quinn practically stuttered over the word _cum_ and it was so adorable. I grinned.

"Not really, not if you know what you're doing." I shrugged languidly. "But, you must just have a natural talent." I laughed at her when she tensed up.

"Well, I think there's no excuse," Quinn muttered, a little indignant. "I mean, if I can do it, how come men can't?" She sounded genuinely perturbed by this thought.

"I'm sure there are some men, somewhere, who are capable of bringing women to orgasm," I told her, suppressing a yawn. "But let's face it, they have a natural disadvantage. They're all stupid."

Quinn giggled a little bit. "This is true."

I shifted, aiming my face towards her. "I'm sleepy right now, princess, but don't worry. I'm more than ready to introduce you into the world of coitus. Maybe tomorrow."

Quinn froze a little bit, shifting uncomfortably. "Yeah, let's not plan it, okay? Let's just let it happen." She seemed extremely uncomfortable, and I couldn't figure out why. I nodded, snugging my arms around her, pulling her into a hug.

"I want a cheeseburger," I murmured.

Quinn gave me a gentle squeeze. "I'll buy you one tomorrow."

"Oh, hey!" I said suddenly, before I forgot. "That bet was way easier to win than I'd thought it'd be." I aimed a little kiss at her chin. "Why did you let me go on so long thinking I was really going to have to work for this?"

I couldn't see Quinn's smirk, but I could hear it in her words. "Like I've said before, Santana, I like to watch you squirm."


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** I'm still so flattered about all the reviews I'm receiving, honestly. I really appreciate everyone who's still sticking around from the beginning! I did a little oneshot that's Pierceberry, if you guys are interested in reading it.. it's called 'One More Time.' I actually think I might do a Pierceberry fic after this one is done. Also, I have an outline of how this is going to end, now, so that's good. Anyways, enjoy!

**Chapter 16**

The next day, I was laying on a blanket spread out in the flower garden. It was only the second time we'd been here and Quinn was fascinated with it. She loved the smell and the colors, and she knew that before long the flowers would start to die. I had only agreed to this because she promised to take me into town later to a little state fair they were having. I doubted it would be much, seeing how the population of Morrow was approximately ten, but I still wanted to go.

I laid back, propped up on a jacket, with sunglasses on, fiddling with my phone. Quinn was sitting up and was studying for that test she had tomorrow. I thought studying was a waste of time, and I told her so.

"Not everyone can be as smart as you, Santana," Quinn said patiently, and my eyebrow rose, trying to decipher if she was being sarcastic or not.

After about an hour, I was starting to get drowsy. It was late morning, and the sun was starting to warm up. I snapped my eyes open when Quinn reached down and removed my sunglasses.

"What are you thinking about?" She asked, quirking a brow.

I smirked at her. "Seriously?" She nodded. "Uh, Brittany."

Quinn smiled. "What about her?"

I sighed, realizing this was probably going to turn out to be a little embarrassing for me. "The way she likes to eat her oranges."

Quinn tilted her head, setting her textbook down on the blanket in front of her, and edged closer to me, so she could watch my face, I think.

"You know, most people cut the orange.. length-wise," I said, for lack of a better term. "And then again into quarters." Quinn nodded slowly. "Well, Brittany likes to cut it the other way.. uhh, horizontally?" I shrugged. "You know, so that when you cut it into quarters, the orange makes little pyramids, instead of wedges."

Quinn smiled briefly. "I just like to peel the orange, whole, and eat each slice one at a time."

I laughed. "You guys are both weird."

Quinn sat in silence for a moment, and I sat up, trying to ward off the sleepiness from lying still in the sun for too long. I reached my hand out and started to break off pieces of long grass and placed them in front of me.

"I like watching you when you talk about her," Quinn said quietly. I snapped my gaze up to her. "You open up. It's very sweet."

I shrugged, pinching my lips together, and began to weave the little pieces of grass into a tiny basket. It was something my grandmother had taught me to do when I was little.

"Hey, I have a… a question," Quinn said suddenly, and when I looked at her, her face was blooming in a huge blush. I grinned at that, unable to stop myself.

"Shoot."

"Have you and Brittany ever…" She paused, turned to look out at the nearest flower bush, shifting uneasily on the blanket. "You know, uh, done it, in any weird places?"

I choked on a huge laugh, shaking my head. "Why do you want to know? Need material for your spank bank?" I was chuckling as I said it.

Quinn frowned at me, as if she didn't get it.

I rolled my eyes. "You are too sheltered, Blondie," I said. I tilted my head, tapping my chin idly, making a show of thinking about it. "Yeah, we've done it in the showers in the girls' locker room."

Quinn's eyes went huge. "What?" Her expression sent me into keels of laughter again. She looked so horrified and indignant.

"Yeah, and the janitor's closet once," I wheezed out, unable to stop myself. I was laughing so hard it hurt.

Quinn was blushing furiously, her hands clasping and unclasping together. She was wearing another skirt and shirt today, one of the few I'd allowed her to keep from her old wardrobe. Her hair was sleek against her head, and I could tell before long she'd need to either re-dye the pink or just let it go. Half of me hoped she'd decide to go back totally blonde, but I decided not to tell her unless she asked.

"That's just too wild," Quinn said, her voice quavering with an emotion somewhere between amusement and awe.

"Why?" I got a predatory smirk. "You thinking about doing it someplace _weird?_" I exaggerated the last word, giving a pointed look to the blanket beneath us and the hedges around us that kept us from the view of the courtyard, and the grounds surrounding it.

Quinn guffawed. It was odd to watch, because I'd never seen her laugh like that, but it brought a huge smile to my face.

"In your dreams, Santana," Quinn said with a prim little smirk. She wasn't looking at me, now, instead making to turn back to her textbook. I caught her wrist with my hand, smiling at her through my eyelashes, and brought it to my lips slowly. I rubbed them over the pulse point there, satisfied when I felt it quicken a bit beneath the pressure.

Quinn was still, as if mesmerized by my motions, and I slowly lifted my head to aim a knowing smile at her. I raised my eyebrows, and the conversation that shot between us was silent but palpable.

I chuckled, slowly releasing Quinn's wrist, and then leaned back on my elbows. I was wearing a white blouse beneath a jean jacket, with a skirt and black leggings beneath it. I knew it was going to get chilly tonight and I was ready. Actually, I was preparing mentally for a bit of revenge, because this fair was not something Quinn wanted to endure. One of the admissions about myself that I'm not proud of (well, screw you, maybe I am): but I hold a grudge. And I hadn't forgotten the torment Quinn put me through last night while watching that _Case 39_ movie. I legitimately have a phobia of scary movies, especially ones with _demons_ in them. Probably from being a child forced to attend mass every week and during holidays, where the priest did nothing but preach about fire and brimstone.. hey, I'm not religious at all, now that I'm old enough to lie or bribe or whine my way out of going, but some things just stick with you. I had been tricked into watching _The Exorcist_ once, when I was in seventh grade. The boy who did that ended up short a nut. So. I figured, in all fairness, I had to do something equally drastic to Quinn.

I conveniently forgot that I had, however reluctantly, agreed to see the film. And if that was going to niggle in on my conscience, then I only had to remember that Quinn, equally reluctantly, agreed to take me into the Devereux County State Fair. I sighed, leaning forward again, fidgeting. Quinn had broken the spell of me comfortably basking, waiting for her to be done studying. Now I was just anxious to get on with the day's activities before we had to climb back into our uniforms and return to another school week.

I picked idly at the grass again, deciding I'd make another tiny basket. They weren't much, just little bowls only slightly bigger than thimbles. Britt used to get a huge kick out of them when we were kids, begging me to make them in different sizes and out of different kinds of grass, even dandelions once.

"Santana," Quinn said, breaking me out of a light daze where I forced my fingertips to maneuver the tiny threads of grass in and out. I glanced up at her.

"Umm, I sort of invited Brynn to go with us to the fair," Quinn said, her tone mild and sheepish. I felt my eyes flash with immediate anger.

"Oh, god, not Doctor Frankenfreak," I spat, scowling. I crumbled up the basket I'd been working on, irritated.

"I just feel sorry for her." Quinn said, softly, as she often did when I was upset. I was getting the impression that she thought of me like a wild animal that had to be tamed or soothed with gentle words. The thought doubly annoyed me.

"Quinn. You should not want to be around this girl. She likes to _dissect dead cats,_ for Chrissake," I muttered, pulling my knees up against my chest and refusing to look at her. It wasn't just the fact that Quinn had invited that particular girl along, it was that I wanted to spend the day with her, alone. I wouldn't be able to get in nearly half the lewd remarks or teasing touches I'd planned on with another person tagging along. I scowled, shooting her a grieved look.

"She's just.. eccentric." Quinn's lips quirked cutely on the word. _Damn you, Santana,_ I scolded myself, _you aren't supposed to think the way she says words is cute._

"Quinn, I sort of miss the old you," I told her with some venom. "The one who didn't tolerate weirdos, the one who slushied Man Hands and tormented Tina and laughed when Puck flung Tinky-Winky into a dumpster."

Quinn's face went still as stone during my little rant, and by the end of it she had that ice queen mask in place. I immediately regretted my words – partially because they were untrue. I _didn't_ miss that Quinn, not really. That Quinn wouldn't have been very kind to Brittany and me, if she had known.. no, she would have been downright _awful._ She would have personally pulled the magic carpet out from underneath us, and sent us caterwauling into high school hell. I almost told her that – almost.

I let out an aggrieved sigh, ripping up another blade of long grass. "All right, princess, I didn't mean that. You were kind of a bitch back then." I angled my head, leaving off the second half of the sentence: _you're still a bitch now, just toned down._ Quinn scowled as if she'd heard it, anyway.

I groaned, then rubbed the back of my hand against my face. "I just, don't think I can handle that freak show today. She completely creeps me out. Let's save her for another day, like Halloween," I said. Quinn's eyes went round as if I had just given her her heart's biggest desire, and I slapped my hands to my mouth, as if I could force the words back inside._Oh shit!_

"Oh my god, Santana, you're a _genius,_" Quinn smiled and I felt my face drop. Halloween. Only a cool holiday if you get to dress up as scantily as possible and get wasted at a party. I immediately realized that Quinn an altogether different idea of Halloween. "We should go with Brynn on Halloween to a cemetery."

I flew my hands up in front of me, outwards, as if I could physically ward off her words. "No, no, no, Quinn." I said it as if simple repetition could refute her words. "Look, I get that you have a freak bone. I understand. Everyone does." I swallowed thickly, because even though I was struggling with this whole _maybe I'm gay_ and _maybe I'm bi_ and _I'm probably in love with Brittany_ but _I have feelings for Quinn too_ it just didn't seem to amount to much compared to Quinn's totally gross, totally gruesome obsession with bones, cemeteries, and dead people. Come. On. These are _frigging dead people_ we're talking about.

"Just, there is a time and a place for displaying these freak bones," I told her, in a lecturing tone, slowly, as if I was talking to Brittany. "And, well, yours is one of those.. you want to keep _very quiet._ If people found out about you, Quinn, you'd lose all your game."

Quinn hadn't said much during this little tirade, but she had leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees and tilt her head at me. Her eyes kept sweeping back and forth between mine, her brow slightly furrowed, as if she was seeking to understand everything I said. Then she hummed deep in her throat and shifted, casting her gaze away from me. It left me feeling oddly naked, as if she'd seen more of me than I'd intended.

"Santana, you're really not that hard to understand." Quinn said matter-of-factly. I raised a brow at her. "I mean, at first you come off like a cranky cat. You're all hot and cold. You want everything on your terms, and in your time. You send out these mixed signals, like 'come here I love you,' then 'go away, I hate you.' A person could get emotional whiplash from it all." She paused, lifting a finger as if asking for a moment more before I exploded. "You go about your life constantly defensive, and most of the time downright _offensive._ But you still manage to have people who love you. It's kind of crazy to think about it. Hell, I've known you for some years now and I never really took the time to think about it, because we always had Brittany between us."

My heart sank slightly at that sentence. Everything she said was digging into me sharply, as if they were daggers, but _that_ particular statement slammed into me like a sledgehammer. It made it hard to breathe.

"Still, as.. _enigmatic_ as you appear, you're not that complicated." She let a small smile soften her features, briefly.

I took a moment to absorb what she said, crinkling my face and picking at the blanket I was sitting on. I was trying to piece together how Quinn had gotten here, and so suddenly. We'd diverted from an argument about that odd Brynn girl, and Halloween in cemeteries, to _this?_ To me and my insecurities and my peculiar attitude? Girls are bat-shit crazy, man. Don't let anybody tell you different.

"First things first," I began, in a measured tone. "When you use words like 'enigmatic' it makes it seem like you're trying too hard," I said, giving her an arched look. "Secondly, that's.. cute.. that you think I'm like a housecat. I think? You like housecats, right?" I smiled a tiny smile at her. "But anyhow, this does not pertain to the current situation. I wants to get our rides on, Quinn. You need to figure out a babysitter for the geek."

Quinn rolled her eyes and flashed me an expression that clearly read: _you're impossible._I shrugged. So what if I am?

"Also, I am definitely not riding any rides with you," Quinn said calmly, hoisting herself up and then offering me her palm, to pull me up. I slid upwards easily, and began dusting off myself. I helped her gather up the blanket we'd spread out and we folded it in tandem.

"Quinn, you owe me," I said, shooting her a meaningful look. She frowned slightly. "You deliberately sat me through two hours of torture. It was awful. I think I'm scarred for life." Quinn snorted and rolled her eyes. "So, it's only fair that you let me get you back."

"I did not walk you into that theater under threat of violence," Quinn said haughtily. Whenever she tried to act all proper like that, it kinda reminded me of Rachel Berry, and it also got my juices flowing – a conflicting emotion that I was not _at all_ ready to analyze – so I just stepped up closer to her, the blanket mashed between us, and pressed a firm kiss against her lips. It silenced any further protests she might have had and sent little tingles down my fingertips. I smiled into it, then stepped away from her, snapping the blanket closed into its final fold. She seemed a little surprised at my ability to do so. I just laughed. I was learning things from her and didn't even realize it.

**Xxxx**

A few hours later we were driving around a gravelly parking lot, which was probably some farmer's milk cow field only hours before, cordoned off with blinding yellow bungee cords, traffic cones, and laminated markers. There was a sizable crowd gathering, walking towards the actual fairgrounds, which had a giant ferris wheel silhouetted against the sky. I figured it would swell after the evening church services let out. Right now was mostly adults and couples, and I was fine with that. Kids were the only downside to a fair, in my opinion – a giant flood of sticky, squalling brats darting in and out of lines, causing havoc. We parked and got out of the car, and joined the steady stream of people heading towards the main body of the fair.

I linked my arm through Quinn's, my pace quick and excited, bouncing my step a little bit. I stole a glance at her and her face was pressed into a stoic expression, which was a sure indicator that she was either annoyed, upset, or mad. I poked her in the ribs subtly, and she darted her gaze towards my face, the sheen of irritation breaking through. I decided this was probably a good thing. Irritation was the easiest of Quinn's many bitchy emotions to diffuse.

"Listen," I said to her quietly, leaning my mouth close to her ear. "I'll make you a deal, Tinkerbell. I'll buy you the most nauseatingly oily food you can think of, and let you eat it without _one single insult,_ if you ride a ride with me."

Quinn pursed her lips, debating. "What kind of food?"

I smiled. Isn't it amazing that Quinn had such an inner fat kid, that the mere mention of fried, greasy food could bribe her to face one of her biggest fears? It astounded even me. "Um, I heard they have fried butter." I shuddered. That sounded awful.

Quinn chuckled, her face splitting in a grin. "Maybe not something that hardcore. What about a fried Twinkie?"

I laughed. "That sounds just as.." I let the sentence die, catching the gleam in Quinn's eye. _Oh, very good, Blondie_, I thought internally, and then just smiled sweetly at her. "Delicious. Lead the way."

Quinn poked me on the cheek. "I'll only agree to this if you also agree to eat something fried. A fried Snickers or something."

I frowned at her. "That's madness, Q. Sheer madness."

She raised her eyebrows. "Well, it's up to you. If we ended up coming all the way out here just to walk around and look at a bunch of farm animals in a 4H competition, so be it."

I scowled, kicking a sizable piece of gravel, watching the dust skid up. "All right. But _after_ the ride. I don't want to get all queasy."

Quinn smiled, and she squeezed my arm in hers.

The fair was nothing compared to the one that hit Lima every year, but then, even that one wasn't much. It was always a big to-do though, for us teenagers in particular. I remembered sneaking out of my bedroom every night that it was in town, just to meet a car full of football players and cheerleaders who were also breaking curfew. We'd stay at the fair until it closed, riding all the rides multiple times. Some of them were lucky enough to have fake IDs, like me, and they drank margaritas out of those huge plastic cups until they puked.

I never mixed alcohol with fair rides, though. It just wasn't a good idea, in my opinion. I got way more enjoyment out of the satisfaction of strapping myself to a giant, creaky machine and letting it fling me around at a bazillion miles an hour than I did out of a few overpriced, lukewarm beers. Quinn only ever went to the fair during the daylight hours back home, and she never rode any rides more exciting than the Tilt-a-Whirl. She claimed a persistent backache that discouraged sudden movements, but I knew better – she was just scared of them.

We walked around the little fair, first up and down the boulevard that housed all those racket games with the giant stuffed animals. I laughed, because I always remembered Brittany practically wetting herself over this or that one. One year I'd scored a pretty sweet Pikachu. I was Brittany's hero for a few hours after that. Still, Britt had way better hand-eye coordination than me, and a better reach, so more often than not she was the one walking away with an armful of stuffed animals.

Quinn wasn't one to bother with the ski-ball booths or water gun races or darts, so we just walked passed them all, making little jokes about the people who tried so hard.

"They're practically rigged," I told Quinn with my tongue in my cheek.

She smiled, her voice a little wistful. "They're so.. endearing, though. I mean, it's what every American Saturday night is made of, right? Some guy impressing his girl by winning her a teddy bear." Her eyes were a little sad.

I frowned a bit at this, because I had no idea how to interpret it. Either Quinn was trying to hint that she wanted me to win her a toy – _yikes_ – or she was lamenting the fact that there wasn't a man around to do her the honors right now, _double yikes._ I patted her elbow reassuringly, deciding to just steer clear of the little booths from now on. "Let's go look at the baby pigs," I told her, aiming her towards a giant building that was shaped like a grossly oversized barn.

The smell was musky, like manure and hay and dust, but it wasn't too bad because all of the doors were open. There was a small crowd of people winding in and out of the collected animals. I guided Quinn directly over to the corral that housed a giant purple and pink sow, who had about a dozen pink and black little piglets rummaging around her. I smiled.

"I love little pigs," I told Quinn conspiratorially. It was true. It didn't stop me from eating bacon or sausage, like Puckerman, but I thought pigs were about the cutest thing ever.

"I know an interesting fact about pigs," Quinn told me in her musing voice.

I glanced at her. "Yeah?"

She nodded, then hummed a little bit. "Yeah, pigs are the smartest domesticated animals, ever. They're smarter than dogs and horses." She flashed me a smile. "So it's a little creepy that we eat them."

My eyes grew round, as I studied the fat momma pig and all her precious little babies. I realized before long they'd end up as ham dinners for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and my stomach did a queasy roll.

"Not cool, Fabray," I chastened, holding my palm against my stomach. "How did you know _that_?" I didn't think she was full of weird animal-specific trivia, like Britt.

She shrugged affably. "When I was pregnant, I didn't do a whole lot but sit on my ass and watch documentaries." She paused, and then relented: "And ate. A lot."

I smirked, deciding to let the opportunity for a jab pass. "Yeah? So what, you were tuned in to Animal Planet the whole time?"

Quinn just shrugged. "There was this one that came on called _Hogzilla_. It was kind of.. scary, actually."

"Don't tell me," I said, patting her arm. "Ignorance is bliss."

Quinn laughed, rolling her eyes. "Whatever you say."

"I do," I said, and then grabbed her elbow to lead us back outside into the sunlight and fresh air. "It's time to ride a ride, Quinn!"

Quinn glanced at me and then at the assortment of rides that surrounded us on this side of the animal enclosure. Her eyes glazed over and she audibly gulped. I followed her line of sight and laughed internally, because she was gawking at that one that was basically a giant pole with seats that shot straight up in the air, hung there a minute, then shot down.

"That one's super fun," I said. Quinn's face went pale.

"I'm scared of heights," She whispered.

"It's okay, Q. I'll hold your hand. You'll be fine."

She shook her head mutely and planted her heels when I tried to tug her forwards.

"Okay," I said, rubbing my fingertips along her inner arm soothingly. "What about.. that one?" I indicated one that was a big circle, and the seats looked like an enclosed roller coaster. Instead of running along a length of tracks, it just rocked back and forth, sped upside down a couple times, and then changed directions. It was pretty moderate, in my opinion.

Quinn's hand trembled slightly against my palm. I turned to her fully, searching her eyes, and I could sense real panic there. Her face was flushed a rosy color and her lips were quivering, her eyes so dark that they looked black instead of green. It caused a lump to rise in my throat and I fought to swallow it down.

"Never mind, Quinn," I said quietly, and then started leading her towards the gathering of craft booths. "I'm not gonna make you do it."

Quinn snapped her head towards me. "You aren't?" She sounded a little incredulous.

"I'm not as cruel as you," I shot over my shoulder with a smirk. She finally realized I was practically dragging her over the concrete and she started taking steps until she was shoulder to shoulder with me.

"But I want you to ride," She said, a little breathlessly. I quirked a brow at her. "No way you don't get to ride _anything._ I know you're an adrenaline junkie. This won't be fun for you unless you get to piss yourself a little bit."

I smiled at her absently, shaking my head, never halting our forward momentum. "It's no biggie, Q. I'll just make sure to go home during the weekend the fair is in Lima. It's no fun to ride them alone anyway."

Quinn chewed on her bottom lip a little bit at this, but decided not to argue. I spotted the booth I was looking for and smiled, leading Quinn towards it. I sat her down on an empty bench and she looked up at me, puzzled.

"Face painting," I told her, and indicated the laminated display of all the different things she could get painted on. Her face lit up immediately and it made me grin in response.

"What should I get?" She asked, scanning the selections. The face painting lady was dressed in a long, wispy white skirt and a colorful blouse with a bandana over her dark hair, and she made me think of a gypsy, even more than Quinn did. She also had a giant hawk nose and an ugly mole on her chin.

"The fairy one, of course," I said, not bothering to hide the irony in my tone. Quinn smirked.

"Only if you promise to get this one," Quinn said, tapping a different picture. I turned it around and laughed. It was the one that turned your face into a cat face.

"It's perfect," I said, smiling at her.

I sat patiently for the artist to finish tickling my face with cold paint that dried, crackly-feeling, along my skin. The feeling reminded me of being covered in mud. Quinn had turned out phenomenal – there was no way to describe it, actually. The lady had painted whimsical fairy wings along the natural contours of Quinn's face in soft, powder blues and dark lavenders. The rest of her face was made to seem more angular and pixie-like by the stroke of greens and bronzes. She looked like a queen out of some mystical fairy tale. When she smiled my heart dropped in my chest, and could only be jolted back into working order if I diverted my gaze away from her. She winked flirtatiously, as if she knew the affect she had on me.

I tried not to squirm or twitch my lips too much, something the lady had already scolded me for. It just seemed like this was taking way longer for me than it had for Quinn, but that was probably because I was watching before, totally engrossed in how this hag-looking woman with a paintbrush had transformed the girl in front of me.

"You look wonderful," Quinn said, an odd expression on her face.

I quickly pulled out my cell phone and aimed it at my own face, snapping a picture. When I turned the display around the grin overtook my face instantly; this lady, however mannish and surly she was, definitely had a talent. She'd used colors that accented my natural skin tone perfectly, with bold crimson and browns and bright golds, and thick, bold strokes, turning my face into a feline cast. I looked less like a tame cat than a tiger, but that was okay.

"Nice job," I said to her, genuinely. She just huffed and laid her hand out for me to slap down some money. I did so, leaving a generous tip anyway, though she just muttered about it.

"Let's take pictures," I told Quinn enthusiastically, and she laughed, submitting to the half a dozen poses I made us do, right there in the middle of the walkway in the crafts area. I snapped a ton of pictures and was grinning like a lunatic.

"What now?" Quinn asked, once I was satisfied and replaced my phone within the confines of my bra. I shrugged. I was pretty much fair'd out, if you want to know the truth – there wasn't anything left for me if I wasn't going to ride rides. I definitely wasn't about to submit to wandering around inside the pavilion, with all those middle aged soccer moms sporting fanny packs.

"Let's get something to eat," Quinn said, smiling. "Then we can go."

I nodded, allowing her to lead us over to the food area, which sported every type imaginable: corndogs, funnel cakes, ice cream, everything that made Sue Sylvester riot. Quinn led me directly over to the canopy where several vats of capable of deep frying had been set up, which already had a pretty big crowd. She shouldered her way through, and I held back, because now I wasn't committed to eating anything since she wasn't going to ride a ride. I just waited to see what sickening surprise she revealed when she left the gaggle of people.

"Deep fried pickle?" I said, sounding a little unsure. She smiled, nodding, offering me a few. They'd given her a paper tray full of pickle slices which had, apparently, been battered and fried. Quinn popped a few in her mouth and grinned.

"It's good, really," Quinn said, trying to convince me. I really didn't believe her. "Quit being such a baby. Try one."

I scowled, and then gingerly picked up a slice and examined it. Quinn rolled her eyes. I sighed, then just popped it between my lips before I could change my mind. I crunched down and the flavor wasn't entirely unpleasant. I still made a face at Quinn.

She laughed, giving me a shove. We were wandering a little aimlessly now, but back towards the exit. I let my gaze linger a little too long on the ferris wheel, though, because Quinn sighed and then just started marching towards it.

"I don't even like this ride," I told her, coming up behind her. She cast a sideways glance at me. "Really. It's boring. All you do is sit and it goes really slow."

Quinn huffed out a breath, crossing her arms over her chest. We were now planted at the end of the line of people who were waiting to get on it. "I'll ride this stupid ride with you, okay? So you don't have to make puppy dog eyes anymore. And you can laugh at how terrified I am." She said it with deliberate deadness in her tone.

I smiled at her, squeezing one of her elbows softly. "I don't want to laugh at you, Q. It's all right. Let's just go."

She narrowed her eyes at me, as if _that_ had been something she'd never believe. Mostly it was because I thought of the ferris wheel as a baby ride, or a sappy ride. It really was boring unless you spent the whole time trying to rock the car you sat in, or tried to throw your shoe on somebody on the ground. I didn't think Quinn would appreciate either gesture.

I just pulled her away from it, and after a small struggle, she relented, and began following me through the maze of people and booths towards the exit.

It was getting late, edging in on dusk. Quinn surprised me by grabbing me by the wrist and pulling me into a little alley between a popcorn stand and a booth selling t-shirts. She smiled conspiratorially at me, then edged me in against the cold – greasy, dirty, _slimy_ – metal of the popcorn stand, placing her arms on either side of my head. She angled hers a bit at first, and the mask of paint on her face made her seem a little magical. It probably had a lot to do with the faint light, the smell of the fair, and my hammering heart, too.

She smiled that quick, vixen smile that had my stomach clenching and my palms itching to touch her. I felt a flood of color rise in my face, though I knew she couldn't see it in the shadow and beneath the paint. I felt like every heartbeat stretched on an hour, waiting for her to finally lower her face to mine and kiss. And when she did, ever so slowly, with such slight pressure, my body wound up so tight and I moaned, just from that little spark of weight. I reached my hands out to tangle into her clothes, craving contact. Quinn smiled into the kiss, parting her lips to nip playfully at my bottom one, before she snuck her tongue into my mouth and tangled it slowly against mine. A gasp caught in my throat, heady and full, my whole body heating up, feeling light and hot all at once. My chest was heaving. Part of me wondered how she had the ability to do this to me – make me respond in such a way, with barely any contact – but then she was kissing me again, changing the depth, pressing harder and more furiously against me, and I forgot how to think.

"Hey, it's those dykes from th' bar the other nigh'!" The sound of a man's voice cracked out, and we jumped apart from each other as if we'd been slapped. My eyes were wide and my heart was knocking in my chest, my mouth slightly agape, at the silhouette of a man standing at the other end of the little alley. I recognized his voice. It was Cowboy Hat. He was pretty drunk, from the look of him. He had two of his buddies with him, both of them in identical cowboy hats and flannel shirts which were tucked into their too-tight jeans. The three of them looked like everything that was wrong about the mid-western cliché.

Quinn grabbed my hand, quickly, and the tension there let me know that she wasn't going to let me react the way my gut wanted to. Because I was suddenly pissed, and the ire built in me with the force of a wild beast, begging to be let out. My face contorted into a snarl, and if it hadn't been for Quinn's warm hand against mine, I probably would have hurdled myself at the guy.

"Don't stop on our account, honies! Keep going!" One of the sidekicks said.

Quinn squeezed my hand harder. "Let's just go, Santana." Her voice was a whisper.

I couldn't make my brain work. I was drunk on Quinn, and my heart yammered wildly in my chest from the fear of being caught, and I was riding a crest of rage that only knew one outlet: to fucking _destroy_ something.

Cowboy Hat stumbled a little bit as he tried to approach us, tripping over a thick, rubber cord that ran between the two booths. "You girls are jus' a li'l confused," He slurred. He was too far away from us for me to see him clearly, but I still knew it was him. "Jus' need the righ' man t'help you.."

Quinn suddenly yanked on my hand, forcing me to turn bodily away from the oncoming man.

"Shut your fucking face, you ignorant prick," I growled at him, my free hand clamping into a tight fist. My whole body shook and vibrated with coiled energy. Quinn was trying desperately to pull me back out into the throng of people, which were only about a dozen steps behind us.

He seemed amused at my comment, and he chuckled out a broken laugh.

"What, and you think _you're_ that guy?" Came a strange voice, and I whipped my head around so fast I actually caused a tight pain in my neck. My face contorted around a muffled yelp. I couldn't believe who was standing there; it was like some weird scene from an old western movie. Sugar Motta, in all her gold and brown chequéd glory, was standing behind us, with her ever-present giant purse clutched to her side. She didn't seem real, because she wore too-tall heels to be practical when walking around on concrete for any amount of time, and she already had her hand digging around in her purse. I was suddenly a little worried for the three bozos, now that the sheer shock of the situation was taking the edge off my rage. Who knew what she'd have in that bag of tricks?

Sugar snorted. "Please. The three of you more closely resemble baboons than you do men." She crinkled her nose, then lifted her hand out of her bag, displaying the hugest bottle of pepper spray I'd ever seen.

My eyes went a little wide, and I slowly began walking with Quinn towards Sugar, and then carefully behind her. Pepper spray wasn't anything to joke around with. Sue Sylvester had, once, in a fit of mad fury, sprayed the Cheerios with it and made us do suicides for three hours. One of the girls' parents had sued her over that.

I admired Sugar, just a little, for the shiftless self-confidence she exuded at all times, even when faced with three pretty big guys. Hell, I admired her for her pluckiness around _me,_which I knew took a certain amount of guts. She just stood there, legs braced, holding the pepper spray can, with her head cocked. Quinn flashed me a small smile, as if she, too, thought the situation a tad bizarre.

"Not worth it," One of the men muttered, and then grabbed Cowboy Hat and aimed him in the opposite direction. They stumbled out of sight.

Quinn let out a little laugh, though it was filled with nerves. "Look at you, coming to rescue us."

I sneered, not quite recovered from the rash of fury that had boiled in my gut. "Motta, you're just like herpes.. nothing keeps you away for long."

Sugar tilted her head and angled a look at me, as if to say: _you aren't fooling anyone_, but she just replaced the pepper spray back into her bag with quick, deft motions. She turned around and clopped past us, her body language clearly indicating she wanted us to follow her.

It didn't hit me then, though it would, later, that judging by what Sugar had heard and how she'd responded, that she also _knew._ I was too amped up on the recent events to even think about it at that moment, but I would spend the next several nights agonizing over the fact in my dorm. Sugar Motta _knew._ And unlike Quinn, Sugar was not a _safe_ person. Sugar wasn't somebody I could trust with this secret knowledge. It would eat at me like a slow poison.

"Santana, I realize now why you've been so cold towards me," Sugar said, allowing Quinn and I to flank her on our way out of the little country fair. She turned to aim her face towards me in a brief smile.

I arched my brow. "You finally realized that you're basically the definition of an idiot?" I could tell by Quinn's expression that she did not approve.

Sugar ignored me. "It's because you're not _Mexican,_" She said, with flourish, as if I had been hiding this fact from her for some time. Before I could respond, she continued: "It's because you're _black._ Everything makes sense now." She smiled so brightly at me, as if she'd just discovered the secret of turning lead into gold. "So I bought you these." And she was rummaging around inside her purse again. She came out with garishly thick chains with huge, grotesque crosses on them. I stared at them in mute horror.

"Oh, dear god, Sugar," Quinn said, once she'd found her voice. She saved Sugar by taking the chains away from her and holding them, clutched tightly, in her palms, shooting me a disbelieving, panicked look. Sugar looked between us, as if she were a bit confused.

"This was really generous of you.." Quinn said, fighting back the hysterical laughter I knew she wanted to let loose. I simply gawked, both at the display of insanity beside me and at the shining 'jewelry' Quinn clutched.

"I know. It's your _bling,_" Sugar told me pointedly. "Now we can be best friends."

I shook my head, not saying a word, and stomped over to Quinn's car. I pulled impatiently at the door handle until she came up and unlocked it. Sugar was still rattling on, following me up to the car, when I simply slammed the door in her face, mid-sentence. It didn't faze her, though. She just kept talking.

**A/N:** So I know this chapter was kinda fluffy, but there's some more hard-hitting stuff coming up, I promise. Once again I appreciate everyone who's stuck with me, and reviews make me update faster. :)


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: **I am still overwhelmed by the response to this story. Thank you everyone!

P.S. .. I need better euphemisms for 'vagina.' Seriously. I apologize for the awkwardness of some of the sentences lol.

**Chapter 17**

I felt all the air whoosh out of my body with a dull thud as I landed square on my back on the thin blue pad. I heaved, trying desperately to suck air in, but only managed a thin wheeze before my diaphragm remembered how to work and coughed a little bit. My face, already flushed, turned a darker red and I felt a sheen of sweat break out over my forehead.

The gangly, slight frame of the girl stood over me, peering down at me speculatively. She still gave me the willies. It was just my luck that that Brynn girl had kickboxing classes with me every Monday. It was also my luck that, although she was smaller and had a lighter frame than I did, she was freakishly strong.

I scowled at her, forcing myself up into a sitting position, where I rested my elbows on my knees for a moment. I tried to fight off a dizzying wave of nausea that the movement inspired. Groaning, I rubbed my temple and tried to stop making the world float around me.

Brynn crouched down, her hair frizzing out around here due to the heat of the practice room as well as her own sweat. "Are you all right?" She asked, in her flat monotone. I nodded, then gave myself a little shake, before accepting the hand she offered to pull me back up.

"All right girls, that's enough for today!" Our instructor's name was Mr. Wilson and he was a youngish man in his mid-thirties, with riotously curly black hair and dark eyes with a slight slant to them. Quinn teased me mercilessly about him – she thought I had a crush on him or something – which made me smile briefly. I actually don't feel anything for Mr. Wilson except admiration for his patience in teaching a bunch of whiny girls how to pummel the crap out of each other.

That, in and of itself, sort of bothered me. _Why_ wasn't I attracted to Mr. Wilson? Most of the other girls were, and not all of them were technically 'girls.' There were a few ladies in our beginner's class in their twenties. They would fawn over the instructor, begging him to give them extra lessons and teach them how to properly 'stretch.' I rolled my eyes at the thought, slinging a towel around my neck and sucking on water from a water bottle. I made my way back to the locker room, where I grabbed my backpack and headed out. Most of the other students were going to shower, but I decided to wait 'til I got back to Atherton. Quinn always scrunched her nose up and made a 'gross' face whenever I got into her car, all sweaty and stinky, but I knew she kinda thought it was hot.

Brynn the Car-less Wonder had been catching rides with us ever since that first day of class when I noticed she was there. It only gave her and Quinn more time to bond over their freakishness. If I could manage it, I never spoke directly to her. She was one of those people who don't think it's rude to stare. Frankly, if I could have erased this girl from my radar, I would have. But Quinn loved her – thought she was cute, like an ugly puppy or something – and took to inviting her to sit with us at lunch. Our lunch table now housed an assortment of the castoffs and misfits of Atherton, saving Quinn, who was like the shiny golden goddess of us all. I smirked a little bit, tugging the car door open and sliding in, Brynn a beat behind me in the back seat. I wondered sometimes if Quinn hadn't maneuvered it like that deliberately.

It was hard for me to separate Quinn from the girl I'd always known in high school, the one with the ruthless drive to dominate. I knew that Quinn wasn't the same kid, because – well – she'd actually given birth to a kid, and that changes people. She was actually extremely sweet and caring, and always did her best to help people. I thought it was part of an act, to be honest. Nobody's that nice, all the time. I was starting to slowly accept the idea that maybe it wasn't. Maybe this was just the new Quinn; the girl who didn't meet a stranger, who helped everyone, and was sweet and kind. Or she was doing a pretty good job of affirming that image in my mind, so maybe it was just her new 'image.'

Either way, it got annoying for me. I lamented the days when we were wickedly vicious to people together. I even missed Brittany's half-hearted, dazed taunts. It gets old being the only one carrying the weight of mean girl. Though there wasn't a lack of _those_ at Atherton, I was still the only one of us who wasn't afraid to say what was on my mind at any given time. Except for that Motta girl – she's got _no _filter. That phrase had once been applied to me, and I carried it with pride.. but now that I realized it was actually quite obnoxious and entirely intolerable, I felt a little bad. Slightly.

Quinn wrinkled her face at me when I sat down beside her, and I grinned, using the back of my hand and wrist to wipe away a thick layer of sweat. Then I leaned over and quickly smeared it over her face, causing her to yelp and jerk the car. I doubled over laughing.

"Santana, that shit is _disgusting!" _She scowled at me, angrily wiping the sweat off her face with her own arm and scrunching her nose up. She seemed genuinely pissed, and that surprised me a little. "You're such a fucking boy sometimes."

I laughed and waggled my eyebrows at her, keeping it PG because of Brynn in the back. She looked between us as if we were interesting science experiments.

I smirked at her, covertly checking the rearview for Brynn's line of sight. She was staring out the window. I casually slid my hand over to Quinn's lap and started tracing little circles there, throwing her an apologetic look when she turned her face towards me. Her eyes were narrowed and I could tell I wasn't going to get off that easy. So I just reached up and tugged her hand away from the wheel and began playing with it, tracing my fingertips over each finger and knuckle. I did this the entire silent car ride, contented to look out the window. Quinn visibly relaxed.

It was mid-October now, and the skies were usually gray and overcast. Most of the leafs were turning colors, and the grass was a dull yellow or brown. I've never experienced an autumn at this altitude, and I was a little surprised at how quickly the seasons changed here. I knew that down in Lima, which was more of a flatland area, it was probably a good ten degrees warmer, with less color in the trees.

We dropped Brynn off at the horse corral, because she took lessons. The girl had a schedule compacted full of after school activities. Quinn said it was to drive off the loneliness, because she literally had no friends here except for us. I didn't consider her my 'friend,' so really, her only friend was Quinn. She always looked at me a little imploringly when she said this, as if she wanted me to.. what? Be nice to her? Ha. I was doing that by not insulting her ridiculous haircut every time I looked at her.

Groaning, I drug myself up the stairs to our dorm room. My muscles tingled and I felt weak and shaky.

"You gonna make it?" Quinn asked, coming up behind me and gripping my bare elbow. I glanced at her and then at the daunting amount of stairs above us. We were only about halfway there.

See, Cheerios training had conditioned me to be more physically fit than most, but it still wasn't as vigorous as kickboxing coupled with the insane dance performances we practiced at the Vox on Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. The New Directions' dance numbers were insanely simple compared to the complex and vigorous sessions Miss Holiday planned out for us every week. Our sectionals were coming up the first week of December, right after the little five day weekend we were allotted for Thanksgiving.

I nodded to Quinn, swaying slightly, fighting the urge to give in and lean on her. I didn't want anyone to get any ideas, and it was still early enough in the day that students were pounding up and down the stairs beside us at a steady pace. I just clutched the cool, glossy wood banister beside me and began the ascent again.

Sometimes I missed Brittany's ridiculous strength, and this particular situation reminded me of a time when I had rolled my ankle in cheer practice. Britt had been so cute, carrying me around everywhere that day, honey-moon style. The memory brought a ghost of a smile to my face as I continued the trudge.

Finally, when we reached the dorm, I went to collapse in the bed, and Quinn surprised me by catching my arms and pulling me away from the bed.

"You're gross. Go take a shower." She was laughing when she said it, but she wasn't kidding. I groaned.

"Quinn, I just want to sleep for about a year."

She wrinkled her face at me, and then tugged at my sweaty t-shirt, which caused a waft of my own odor to reach me. I crinkled my own face at the smell.

"All right, you win," I laughed, and then peeled the moist clothes from my body, tossing them behind me as I made my way into the bathroom. By the time I was at the shower, I was down to just underwear, which I slid off and left right in front of the stall, turning on the faucets.

I began the ritual of showering, listening half-heartedly to Quinn bitching about me throwing my dirty clothes everywhere out in the room.

Freshly bathed and changed into a t-shirt and soft cotton shorts, I sat down on the floor with Quinn, who had her physics book out in front of her. I leaned against my bed, stretching, using the weird angle of the drawers and the bedframe to pop my back. The shower had loosened my tight muscles and made me feel relaxed, but not as tired as I was before.

Quinn was facing towards me, her books and pens and notebooks spread out between us. My legs were spread wide open, my wet hair pulled up in a ponytail. I was bored, and didn't feel like doing homework. I almost never did. I was one of those students who could slap down answers to homework sheets in the ten minutes between classes, with sleep still in my eyes.

"My muscles are so sore," I said to Quinn, whining. She glanced up from her work, arching a brow, and then leaned back to study me. I gave her a small smile and then drew my own leg up to knead at my calf.

Quinn didn't say anything, instead scooting herself forward, sweeping the textbook and papers out of the way with her leg. She gave me a soft smile, and then planted a kiss on my bare knee, before she used her own fingers to knead into my calf.

I grunted, enjoying the feeling, leaning back to watch her. She had a look of extreme concentration on her face, her eyebrows knitted slightly, her lips pursed. Her fingers were soft and slight, but they worked against the knots and soreness located in my leg. She switched to the opposite one and I smiled at her, wiggling my toes playfully.

"Don't get any funny ideas," I told Quinn warningly when she began to knead into my thigh instead of my calf. Her head shot up and she looked at me with this peculiar look. I tilted my head at her.

We hadn't been physically intimate with each other since that first night a few weeks ago. Part of it was to do with the drama that happened at the fair, but the other part was that we had both been so busy and so tired lately. I didn't spend too much time thinking about it.. we spent almost every night cuddled up in the same bed, and there was sometimes kissing. We had fallen into the niche of not just friends, but not girlfriends, (I shuddered at _that_ term) and I was completely comfortable with it. I assumed she was, too.

Still.. she was wearing her Atherton dress shirt and skirt, but she had unbuttoned some of the buttons and I caught a glimpse of cleavage when she leaned down. I can't deny the way it made my heartbeat start to speed up. I tensed when she nudged forward, parting my legs a little bit more, kneading her palms into the meat of my thigh.

The sight of her kneeling between my legs made all the spit in my mouth dry up. My eyes widened, watching her fingers work over the soft area directly adjoining my crotch. She may have noticed the way I almost stopped breathing and turned a dark shade of red, because she laughed quietly. I snapped my gaze up to her face and scowled.

"Lay down on the bed, I'll give you a massage."

I smirked, raising an eyebrow at her. "Lock the door." It was my attempt at flirting. Quinn returned my smile, but didn't argue, and went to turn the simple lock on the doorknob.

Okay, so if I was a second away from hyperventilating before, I definitely was close now. My eyes must have bugged out because Quinn grinned at me, pulling on my arm to help me crawl into my bed.

I lied with my face down on the mattress, trying to think of anything else other than the heat of Quinn's legs as she straddled me right at my hips, sitting her butt against mine. I smashed my face into a pillow in order to try to control my breathing, but that wasn't working. I could feel Quinn quake with laughter above me, and it made me scrunch my eyebrows against the blankets.

She slowly started rubbing her palms over my back, slipping them beneath the slight fabric of my shirt. I let out an involuntary groan, feeling the muscles loosen and contract. Quinn started pushing and shoving with the meat of her hands, fingers splaying into the valleys and dips of my back. It felt nice. I felt myself relaxing, despite the very distracting idea that Quinn was straddling me.

Well, that was until I started to feel her slip her fingers down along my side, rubbing absently against my ribs and then higher up, smoothing against the sides of my breasts. I started sucking in ragged breaths, feeling my nipples harden and tingle against the bed. I turned my head and tried to stare at the wall and ignore it. It's kinda like getting caught with a boner, and super embarrassing.

Quinn leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against my back, right around where she'd bunched the shirt up around my shoulders. I bit my lip, holding back a moan, while she trailed hot, wet kisses down the length of my spine. I started writhing, and the lower she got, the harder it was to repress it.

"Quinn," I murmured, and then slowly rolled over. Quinn lifted herself up and then settled back down once I was facing her. She smiled at me, her eyes lidded, and I couldn't help but return the grin. She started massaging slowly over my stomach, making the muscles tense and quiver beneath her hands. She was being incredibly slow and deliberate about it, and looked wildly sexy, her face flushed.

I reached my hands up and then curled forward, to undo the last few buttons of her shirt, and then slowly slid it down her arms. I glanced up at her and saw she was smiling at me. I returned her smile, lifting up to press a kiss against her lips.

Her hands fisted in my hair, and I wrapped my hands around her thighs, pulling her tighter against me as we kissed. My breath exploded between us, hot and moist, lips fighting and tongues battling in a kiss that was all heat and teeth. Quinn made a noise a little like a growl when I pulled her lip into my mouth and sucked on it, and I grinned when she pulled my hair.

I could feel the damp heat coming from Quinn's crotch, pressed against mine, and it made every nerve in my body tingle. I started rubbing my hands along her thighs, working towards the middle, eager to press against her underwear and the slickness I was sure I'd find there.

Quinn smiled against me, and then used her body to press mine backwards, laying me flat against the bed, her hands drawing my shirt up and over my head as we went. When I lied back, my torso was naked, and Quinn was hovering over me, her short blonde hair falling around her face, making a halo.

"Who knew you were such a top?" I whispered, smiling. She grinned back at me and began to kiss along my neck, her hands rubbing up and down the length of my ribs and brushing her thumbs along the sides of my breasts. I lay there quietly, breathing shallowly against her, biting my lip and writhing beneath her, panting. Quinn slowly began rocking against me, and the pressure was causing warmth to explode from my privates. I wanted to touch her desperately. My hands were restlessly roaming over her back, sliding nails against her soft skin, teasing the line of her skirt that sat snugly on her hips.

My body was squirming with hers, my hips bucking upwards every time she ground down, seeking pressure and release. My skin was burning from her lips and touches, my heart hammering against my ribs. I finally shifted and then wrapped my legs around her, groaning at the sudden, but fleeting, relief I found in the contact.

Quinn grinned at me, her lips pressed against my neck, and I felt her teeth peek out and nip against me, while her right hand trailed down in the space beneath us. My breath exploded raggedly, my back arching in anticipation when her fingers flirted briefly against the hem of my shorts.

She was deliberately brief with her touches, using the pads of her fingertips to scorch my skin, dipping below the waistband and then swirling little designs against my skin. I was moaning, making soft, pleading noises in my throat, and my hips pressed against her urgently every time she dipped lower along my abdomen and along my inner thighs.

I knew I was soaked, I could feel the slickness against my legs, my underwear matted to me. Quinn rubbed along the valley between my lips softly, eliciting a grunt from me. I could sense her raise her head and peer down at me, though my eyes were squeezed shut and I had my lip caught with my teeth.

"Fuck, Quinn," I sputtered, grinding myself against her gentle fingers. My hands pressed on her shoulders urgently, as if I could convey with my palms how desperately I needed her to _stop_ _fucking teasing me._ I didn't see it but I could tell she was smiling.

Finally, she slipped her slim hand beneath the seam of my panties, and I held my breath in anticipation. She glided three fingers through the mass of wetness she found there, before she spread my lips and then plucked a single digit against my clit.

My hips jumped, my whole body seizing with the delicious shock of pleasure, and I started moving against her restlessly. I couldn't take it anymore. The warmth of Quinn's palm against my pelvis and the feeling of her delicate fingers against me made me crazy, and I wanted more than anything to be on top of her.

I moved to flip us, shifting myself down and using my calves to wrap around hers. But somehow Quinn predicted this and she simply held firm, using her free hand to hold my shoulder down while she continued to slowly play with my clit, swirling around it, dragging her fingers in exploration around the folds and hollows beneath.

I was whimpering now, desperately, my body moving of its own accord against her – it was like she was playing an instrument, and I was helpless to resist. My whole frame felt like it was on fire, and the pressure inside me was increasing with every second. I felt somehow helpless like this, trapped beneath her, unable to change our positions. I gripped at her tightly, cupping the back of her neck to pull her face close to mine. I didn't open my eyes once, because I felt too exposed – too vulnerable like this. I just sought her mouth hungrily, swallowing her lips and muffling my grunts and groans against her. I put a lot of emotion into that kiss; emotions I wasn't even aware of, that lurked somewhere inside me.. firstly, my desperate need for her, as if she were the answer to every question my body could ever ask, but also other things.. a torrent of memories and feelings that I would never, ever be able to find the words for.

I suddenly exploded against her, her fingers having circled my clit mercilessly, and I tore my lips away from her to muffle a scream against my own palm, biting down hard. My body thrashed and clenched, and I could feel myself throbbing inside, squeezing against nothing, since her fingers had never delved there. My chest heaved, lungs expanding and contracting irregularly, my heartbeat pattering wildly. I saw stars. Finally, my muscles began to relax, and slowly the tension drained, leaving me supple and relaxed.

Quinn lied on top of me, resting her head against my chest, listening to my heart. I let out a long huff of breath, my hands dragging lazily up to smooth down her hair and rub her back. I felt tired and weak, and unmentionably comfy, with Quinn resting on top of me.

I'm guilty of drifting off immediately after sex, if I'm on the receiving end. Part of me struggled against it, because I wanted to turn Quinn over and make love to her slowly, to repay her for the way she made me feel. But my muscles were jelly, both from the long day and the exquisite release I'd just experienced. Quinn murmured something against my skin, but I barely heard it, and before I knew it I was asleep.

**Xxxx**

Tuesdays are 'Anger Management' days. Like Brynn, I have a full week: Monday for Kickboxing, Tuesday for Mr. Neely, and Wednesday through Friday for The Vox. I tapped my pencil against my notebook briefly, staring at the clock hovering above the door by Mrs. Sterling's head. She's my English III teacher, and honestly – all English classes are, for me, a total waste of time. I read at a college level and have since I was in eighth grade. I had tried, for a while, to get my father to let me test out of high school English classes.. that was a vain hope, though. He thought I was just kidding, that I didn't have the ability to bypass them. The tests cost money, and besides – what would I do with my time if I had a free hour? I'm sure he thought I'd use it to fuck boys or something.

When the bell rang I shifted, yanking up my backpack and shoving my notebook inside. I hadn't written a single thing on the white page, and I felt a little guilty.. not because of the class, which was pointless, but because I could have used the time to write Brittany a letter. I hadn't remembered to, though. All I could think about was the glint of green of Quinn's eyes, and her thick eyelashes.

I waited for Quinn by the staircase, in case she forgot I had a date with the wanky Mr. Neely. It was only the second week of therapy, and we usually 'studied' together for a few hours after class. Studying was code for: I stare at Quinn while she pretends to ignore me and stare at her textbooks, scribbling notes onto paper. It was fun times. I usually made a mental bet with myself to try to see who could resist the urge to make out the longest.

I smiled immediately when I saw her walking towards me, like some commercial for shampoo or glitzy women's products. I didn't think about the way my heartbeat sped up or the way I had to swallow my own drool.

"Hey Q," I smirked at her, and she returned my smile, as if she could read my mind. "I've got that stupid meeting with the guidance counselor today."

Quinn nodded, glancing around at the stream of students that walked by us without notice. "I remember. I think I'm going to sign up for something to do on Tuesdays while you're there."

I cocked my head, studying her. She was deliberately avoiding looking at me for a reason. "All right.. like what?"

Quinn's face broke out in a guilty smile. "Track, with Brynn."

I rolled my eyes. "Quinn, that girl is a bad, bad influence on you." I was being serious. I didn't like Quinn spending all that time with her.

Quinn smirked, raising both of her eyebrows at me. "And what are _you,_ pray tell?" Her tone of voice implied a lot more than words.

I chuckled. "I'm good for you, Tink." I reached up and tugged affectionately on a lock of her hair. "I keep you on the straight and narrow."

Quinn had to swallow a huge laugh. "I don't know anything about you keeping me _straight,_ Santana."

My jaw dropped. I sputtered, glancing around quickly at the sea of students milling about. "Jesus, Fabray," I said, patting my chest delicately. "You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days."

Quinn smirked arrogantly. "That's my goal."

"God, you're terrible," I laughed, giving her a playful shove. "I'll meet you upstairs when it's done. Get me a _salad_ for dinner."

Quinn just chuckled, giving me a wave of her fingers as she turned to go.

I was being serious; I felt like I was going to develop love handles. _Love handles._ That just wouldn't do.

I pushed into Mr. Neely's office impatiently, letting the door slap noisily back into its place while I thumped my bags down and took a seat at his overly cushy chair. He was leaning back in his chair, reading a magazine or something, with weird square glasses on.

I noticed, not for the first time, that he was balding, though his curly hair hid it pretty well. He also had a paunch, and dressed like Britt's grandpa Merle. He had a weird paternal cast about him and it set me on edge, though it probably made other girls feel more at ease around him.

"Hello Santana," Mr. Neely said pleasantly, lying down the rolled up book he was looking at. "How has your day been?"

I shrugged, crossing my arms over my chest and crossing my legs as well, jouncing my foot impatiently. I eyed the clock, aware we still had about 58 minutes left before I could leave.

"Did anything happen today to make you angry?" Mr. Neely asked. He asked that last time, too. I wondered if he was going to ask it every day.

I shook my head, still silent. _Not until you asked me that._ I felt the urge to snap at him, but I didn't. I felt like this was progress.

I didn't have anything to do with my hands or eyes, so I reached over and dug around in my bag, coming back up with a nail file. That was better. I started buffing my nails, refusing to even glance in Mr. Neely's direction.

He shifted, sighed, and drummed his fingers against his desk. "Santana, we can't start to get around your anger until you talk to me."

I lifted my eyes to glare at him. "I'm not angry."

He smiled, and I returned to buffing my nails.

"This really isn't going to work out for you," He said, and it made me look up at him again. He was leaning back and had both of his hands clasped behind his head, studying me.

"Yeah? So I can quit coming?" The idea was very appealing, but suspicious.

"No," He shook his head, a tinkle of laughter in his voice. "If you don't, hmm,_ participate_ during our sessions, I may have to report to the school board that you're simply too uncooperative to remain here."

I squinted my eyes, glaring at him. "Basically, you're blackmailing me." I didn't give him time to respond. Instead, I slapped my nail file down on his desk, leaning forward. "Listen, Mr. _Neely_. I understand what you're trying to do here. It's kind of pointless though. A few kumbaya sessions with you, and talking about how to 'properly express my anger'" I made air quotes around that phrase, "is not going to change one single thing about me. Okay?" I smiled sweetly at him, head tilted to the side.

He leaned forward, matching my stance. "Santana, why are you so _angry_ all the time? Do you know?"

I rolled my eyes, huffing. "Because I have to live in a world with _idiots,_" I said, pointedly.

He smiled, unfazed. "Do you even know why you're so defensive?"

I cocked my head. This guy was kidding, right? "This is just the awesomeness that is me, _Todd._ I'm not angry or defensive or any of the other quack shrink terms you want to label me." I shifted, settling back into my chair.

He sighed again, studying me. I met his gaze frankly. Finally he rubbed his hand over his head and then started rifling through a file drawer.

"I'm going to give you some articles to read," He told me, producing them, and handing them to me over the expanse of his desk. "I want you to write an essay about anger in general, your own anger, and how you're going to manage it. I want it next Tuesday."

I scowled, looking at the printed pages in my hand. "Like I don't already have enough homework." I said.

He shrugged. "You wanted to do this the hard way. You won't talk to me, so maybe you'll feel more comfortable writing about it."

I glared at him again, shoving the papers into my bag. I stood up, slinging it over my shoulder. "Can I go now?" I hated asking that question, because it only outlined how utterly powerless I was among the adults in my life. He just nodded.

I left, still seething.

On my way back upstairs, I felt my phone buzzing in my pocket. I pulled it out absently and clicked the accept button, assuming it was Quinn.

"Hey, Santana!" It wasn't. It was Brittany. I felt myself smile immediately.

"Hey, Britt. What's up?"

I pushed the door open to our dorm, which was empty. Quinn was still gone – but that wasn't strange, she hadn't expected me back for another thirty minutes or so.

"I miss you so much." Brittany said, without preamble. I felt my smile fade a little bit, as I started undressing, trying to manage to take my cardigan off one-handedly.

"I know, Britts," I said, the fabric whirring against the speaker briefly. "I miss you too."

There was a pause. "When are you coming back to Lima?"

I frowned, kicking off my shoes and using the toes of one foot to peel the stocking down. "Maybe this weekend. I'll have to see what Quinn's doing."

Brittany didn't immediately respond, and I pulled my phone away from my face to make sure she was still there. She was. "Britt?"

I could hear her breathing, and it sounded a little like she was crying. "What's wrong?" My voice was quiet and concerned. I was suddenly aware of the ache of Brittany, the constant wound in my heart where she belonged; it wasn't a question of forgetting her, so much as trying to ignore the pain of not being around her. It was better with time and distance. But it never truly went away.

"I quit the Cheerios," Britt said, her voice cracking. I felt my own heart rip a little bit.

"Oh, no, Brittany," I murmured quietly, sitting down on my bed in just a bra and panties. I couldn't take the phone away from my face to put a shirt on, not while Britt was crying on the other line. "Why?"

"Coach Sue tried to shoot me out of a cannon," She sobbed, and I frowned, puzzled.

"What? That bitch is psycho." I shook my head. "So what? You're just in glee club now?"

Brittany hiccoughed on the line, and my fingers slowly opened and closed, wishing I could be there to hold her. "Talk to me, Britt," I said, soothingly.

"Yeah, just glee club. I got slushied today."

I winced, because I knew she'd never been slushied before. Last year, we'd both still worn the armor of the Cheerios outfit, and I had dated Puckerman, and she.. well, she slept around. It kept us immune to the cruelties of the other football players. But now that Britt didn't have me to keep her safe, or the Cheerios, and she was dating that cripple, she had nothing. She was no one. My heart sank.

"I'm so sorry, honey," I said, because I didn't know what else to say. "I wish I could be there. I wouldn't let anyone slushie you."

I heard a noise that indicated Britt was scrubbing her face with some type of fabric, and that she was shifting around on her bed. "I know." Her voice sounded a little stronger now. "I-I also.. well." She paused, hitching in a deep breath. "I need your help with something."

I blinked at the ceiling, using my free hand to rub my eyebrows. "Anything I can do to help you, I will," I told her, honestly.

Just then, Quinn opened the door and then shut it quickly when she realized I was laying pretty much naked on the bed. She lifted an eyebrow in question and I just shook my head slowly.

"I switched to Spanish," Britt basically whispered. My eyes flew open.

"What? I thought you were taking French this semester, with Kurt." My eyebrows knit, worryingly. Wasn't it too late in the semester for her to change classes? How had Mr. Shue agreed to that?

Britt sounded like she was going to start crying again. "I need your help." She choked back a sob.

"Brittany," I murmured, and I could see Quinn tense up from across the room, from her desk where she was sitting and trying to pretend like she didn't hear my conversation. "Why did you do that? Kurt could have helped you pass French."

"I switched because.. because I want to learn how to _talk_ to you." Brittany sobbed. I felt my own face screw up, echoing the pain in her voice that caused my whole chest to collapse. I wanted to curl up in a little ball and cry until I was dry. It was the most awful, terrible feeling, to not to be able to help Brittany. Not to be able to protect her, or to hold her while she cried.

"Brittany, we can talk to each other in English," I said, my voice soft, though my throat was tight with pain.

"No, Santana," Brittany said suddenly, and I was surprised at the conviction in her tone. "We don't talk to each other in English." She paused, and then in quavering, broken Spanish, said, "Te amo."

I pressed the heel of my palm into my eye socket, making white starbursts appear behind my lid. I forced the tears to stay there. "Oh, god, Brittany," I muttered, pressing my fingers against my lips to stop them from trembling. "I love you, too."

Brittany just sobbed quietly into the phone. "Then _why_ don't you talk to me? Why don't you come see me?" She sounded confused and alone. It killed me.

"Britt, I promise," I said, my voice breaking. "I promise I'll come see you more. I'll help you with your Spanish class. It's going to be better from now on."

"I'm so sorry about Artie." She said, and it might have seemed random to an outsider, but I knew the track Britt's mind was on.

"Nothing about this is your fault, Britt," I said, gritting my teeth. I was trying to ward off a break down. "It doesn't have to do with you and Artie.. I'm just.. I'm not _there._" I didn't know how to explain it to her without it sounding like I was deliberately not talking to her. I really wasn't. Just, things were easier for me if I pretended like Britt was good and happy back in Lima, with her glee friends and her nerdy boyfriend.

"It's not the same without you," Brittany whispered, almost as if she had heard my thoughts. "I'm not happy without you." Oh, god. I felt like someone was taking a screwdriver and gutting me slowly.

"Me either," I said, though it came out funky because I was forcing back tears. "I'm going to do better. I promise."

Brittany seemed to calm down a little bit. I wondered, briefly, just how long she'd been thinking about this.. these sorts of things were not spur of the moment for Brittany. She had to carefully plan out things like switching to a different foreign language class in the middle of the semester. It was probably the stress of Coach Sylvester going all crazy on her, coupled with her first slushie, that made her decide to tell me tonight.

"Who slushied you?" I asked suddenly. Brittany seemed to frown, and I could almost hear the wheels clicking in her brain.

"Azimio."

I nodded. "Okay, Britt. Well I can take care of that." I hoped I could, at least. "And as for Spanish, can you just e-mail me your homework? I'll do it for you and then e-mail it back to you."

Brittany sniffled. "I don't want you to just do it for me. I was serious. I want to learn Spanish." Amusement colored her tone of voice, and I marveled at how quickly she could go from being upset to being perky. "Then we could talk dirty in front of people and nobody would know."

My eyebrows shot up and I turned to face Quinn, though she was sitting with her back to me, unmoving. I wondered if she heard that.

"Uh, yeah, well.." I stuttered, then cleared my throat. "I'll give you lessons on the weekends. Try to pay attention to Mr. Shue, though he's practically retarded." I sighed, sitting up, running a hand through my hair. "I have to go, Britt. I needs to take care of the Azimio situation. But I'll call you tomorrow."

Brittany made a little humming noise in the phone. "And you're going to come to Lima this weekend?"

I shot a glance towards Quinn. "I'll have to let you know."

Brittany seemed disappointed in that. "Well, okay. I love you, Santana."

"I love you, too." I sighed, and closed my eyes, when the phone clicked off.

Quinn was slow to turn around, and when she did face me, I was tapping furiously on my cell phone, in a mass text message aimed to every football player I'd ever slept with, including Noah.

-_Hey. I need you to beat the shit out of Azimio. If you do I'll make it worth your while._ I paused before pressing SEND. Then I pulled up another blank text and addressed it to Finn, Rachel, and Mike.

_ -Guys, you have to take better care of Brittany. Keep that Azimio prick away from her. If I find out she's been slushied again, I swear I will ends you._

Frustrated, I slid my phone onto my desk and then flopped backwards with a groan, rubbing my hands into my eyes. This day had been stressful and draining, and now I wanted to get drunk.

Quinn was looking at me with that steady face, the one that was a mask for all her negative feelings, like anger and hurt. I rubbed anxiously at my own forehead, angling my head to look at her.

"I think we need to talk about Brittany." Quinn said into the silence. I shifted, then sat up, looking at her.

"What about her?"

Quinn remained silent for a while, picking over her words. She seemed cold and distant, which put me on edge. I wasn't used to it, anymore.

"Are you in love with her?"

I scowled immediately, picking at my bedspread. "I don't know. I _love_ her," I said, as if that explained it. "I have to take care of her."

Quinn's eyes bored into mine and I fidgeted. I didn't like the look she was giving me. "Okay, but are you in love with her?"

I jerked my shoulder into a shrug. "I don't know, Quinn. Why?"

Quinn's face flinched, and then resettled into that blank mask. "Why do you _think?_"

I really didn't know. What I did know, was that panic was balling up inside my gut, making me taste copper at the back of my mouth and my heart speed up. What was she asking me? What was she _implying_?

Quinn studied me frankly, her eyes sweeping over every feature of my face. "You really are clueless, aren't you," She said, with a hint of disdain in her voice.

I felt my hackles rise at her tone, and I scowled at her, jumping up, and then reaching down in my drawer to yank on a t-shirt. I didn't feel comfortable being so exposed in front of her anymore. "Quinn, Brittany isn't your business." My tone was cold and harsh, and I didn't look at her when I said it, just busied myself with trying to find some sleep shorts to put on.

"It kind of is my business," Quinn said slowly and deliberately, "If you plan on sleeping with her again."

I turned around to face her, feeling the anger build in my chest. "Why the fuck does it make a difference to _you?_"

Quinn met my anger with ice, and that just pissed me off more. "God, Santana, are you an idiot?" She spat. I clenched my palms into fists at my side. "Because, unlike you, I'm not a _whore,_ and I'm not going to be sleeping with someone who is sleeping with someone else."

I felt my own arm jerk out with the instinct to punch her when she spat out the word _whore._ I had to suck in a deep breath and turn away from her, digging my fingernails into the bed of my palm. I felt them slice into the skin. "Quinn, I thought we had discussed this." I tried to sound even and calm. Instead it came out kind of quavery. "I thought we agreed on non-exclusivity."

I wasn't looking at her, and I was grateful, because I felt like crying and punching her all at once. It was a lot of emotions.

"We did," She muttered, "But that was before.." I heard her shift around on her bed. I waited for her to finish her sentence.

"Nothing," Quinn said on a long breath, and I finally turned to face her. She was laying down on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She sounded defeated now, like the ire had drained out of her. "You're right. We did."

I was confused. I wasn't used to winning arguments like this. And I felt like even though Quinn was agreeing with me, she really, honestly didn't.

I sat down on my own bed cautiously. "I don't know, Quinn." I said awkwardly, laying my palms in my lap. I stared at the crescent-shaped wounds on each palm that slowly oozed red. "I don't have the answers to this. I'm just.." I sighed. "I'm just doing the best I can here, okay?"

Quinn nodded slowly, squeezing her eyes shut tight. It hurt me to watch her struggle to put her walls up, and I felt like crawling in bed beside her and soothing away her pain. But something stopped me, and I just couldn't. I felt stuck to my bed.

She rolled over, facing the wall. "Good night, Santana."

I stared at her back for a long time before I finally reached up and clicked off the lamp that had been on. I shifted into my bed, settling beneath the blankets. It didn't feel right to fall asleep without Quinn.

**A/N:** So this is my longest chapter yet. I finally have an ending mapped out, and honestly, I don't know if it's one that most of you want. I don't even know if _I_ want it, to be honest, but it's just what's happening. I really have no control over this.. I type and the words spew out and when I'm done, I'm just as surprised as you are to see what's there. That's the truth. I think we can expect between 5-10 more chapters. As always, please review, and I appreciate everyone who's sticking with me through this. :) It's been quite the experience.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:** For everyone who reviewed: thank you. I genuinely meant it when I said it makes me update faster – see? Also, who knew the possibility of a Brittana controversy would get me so many reviews?

I guess I'll keep being cryptic in my notes, since so many of you responded: beware of ANGST.

**Chapter 18**

The next day, I knew there was something utterly wrong with Quinn. She didn't look at me or talk to me. She ignored me altogether in classes we had together, and was snappy and short with people who weren't me that tried to talk to her. I think, by the look on Joy's face, that Quinn had almost made her cry. That created a huge lump in my chest, because a bitchy, snappy Quinn is not a happy Quinn. And I didn't know what to do to fix it.

I spent the entirety of the day avoiding her, because she seemed so pissed. She wouldn't even make eye contact with me. It made it hard, because I realized how much I relied on Quinn throughout the day. Barely anyone spoke to me, since Quinn didn't. I realized, with a bit of a shock, that all of these people that I loosely termed my 'friends,' actually weren't. They were only my friends because Quinn was.

I sat down at a picnic table as soon as class let out, deciding to skip Vox that day. I couldn't handle the idea of being so close to her, singing and dancing in tandem, when she wouldn't even look at me. It broke my heart a little bit just to imagine it.

Sighing, I rummaged through my book bag, deciding I would do some homework for once. I had too much on my mind to just sit and think.

I was surprised when Sugar plopped down beside me, the scent of her perfume strong. She seemed utterly composed and unruffled by my irritated look. She was looking at herself with a little hand mirror, applying a thick layer of lipstick.

"What's your problem, Motta?" I asked, doing my best to keep my voice down.

"I was going to ask you the same question, actually," Sugar said, snapping the compact close, then angled her head to look at me. "Are you having girl trouble?"

I whipped my head around to glare at her, then darted a quick glance around to make sure nobody overheard. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Sugar didn't seem to catch on to the hostility in my tone. "I'm a little bit psychic," She told me.

"I think you mean _psychotic,_" I muttered, stabbing my pen into the soft wood of the picnic table.

"Hmm. No." Sugar said, tilting her head. "I know you and Quinn are fighting. What did you do?"

I glared at her again. Can this chick not take a hint? "We aren't _fighting,_ you fucking imbecile. We're fine." I said the last part a little lamely, because I knew it wasn't true.

"No, she's definitely pissed at you." Sugar held her purse in her lap and was rummaging around inside of it. "You need to fix it, so you guys can be happy again."

I rolled my eyes, groaning, and then turned to face Sugar slightly, hoping that the more direct I was, the better chances I'd have of her understanding me. "Sugar, I need you to listen closely to me," I said, and caught her eye. "Quinn and I aren't dating. We're just friends. And we're not fighting." At least, I didn't think we were fighting.

Sugar cocked her head, studying me. "You aren't dating?"

I shook my head no, thinking, _finally._

"That's probably why she's mad," Sugar said sagely, nodding to herself. "I think she probably wants to."

My eyes bugged out of my head, jaw dropping slightly, before I lowered my forehead to the picnic table with a groan. "Sugar—"

"Is it because you can't commit?" Sugar asked, patting my back softly. "Is it because you're a strong, independent black woman, like Beyoncé?"

I resisted the urge to slam my head against the picnic table. "Sugar. For the last frigging time, I _am not a black woman._" I made sure to enunciate every syllable. "Not that it's any of your business, but I'm Puerto Rican."

Sugar nodded slowly. "Why didn't you tell me _before?_ I spent all this time looking up Kwanzaa traditions."

I sighed, rocking my head to the side so I could peer at her with my face still resting on the picnic table. "Why aren't you at the Vox meeting?"

Sugar smiled briefly. "I saw you leave your last class and come out here. Plus Quinn is mad like a super nova. I figured you needed a friend."

I rolled my eyes, but held back the snappy retort. I had learned the hard way today that I basically didn't have any friends, besides, apparently, Sugar – and reluctantly Quinn, if I hadn't fucked that up beyond measure.

"So you need help figuring out a way to stop making her mad at you?" Sugar asked, cheerfully. She sat there thinking for a moment. I just watched her, prepared for whatever complete insanity she would come up with next. "What about getting her flowers? Or jewelry?" Sugar smiled. "That always makes me happy."

I shook my head. "Again, we aren't dating. We're friends. Friends don't give each other flowers—" But then whatever thought I had in my head suddenly died. I widened my eyes, springing up. "Sugar, you're a damn _genius,"_ I told her. I quickly gathered up my backpack.

"I know. I'm a part of MENSA," Sugar told me matter-of-factly. I ignored her, and slinging my backpack over my shoulders, bolted towards the hedged-in flower garden.

I prayed that it wasn't too late in the season – that the flowers hadn't already died. And either some miracle had happened, or somebody, somewhere, took pity on me, but the bush with the _Santana Hibiscus_ still had a riotous amount of blooms. I smiled, and then began to delicately pluck a number of the blooms by the stem, careful not to crush or damage any of them.

I was buzzing with anxiety and mingled excitement as I darted inside, one hand clutching the stems of the blooms and the other shielding the flowers from general view. I was afraid somebody would see them and then I'd, like, get a ticket or something for picking the school's flowers.

"Santana, that's just tacky," Sugar had commented when I walked past her, towards the building. "You're supposed to _buy_ the flowers. You know? Like from a florist?" I ignored her and power-walked inside, and then up the stairs.

I sat the bundle of flowers down nervously on my desk, chewing on my lip, as I hurriedly undressed and changed into jeans and a snug t-shirt. I brushed out my hair and let it fall to my shoulders unhindered. I even thought about reapplying a layer of makeup, but stopped myself. I couldn't figure out why I was so nervous or anxious. I kept checking my phone, waiting for the hour to pass for Vox to be over and Quinn to head up here.

I laid against my pillow, fiddling with my phone. The minutes slowly ticked by.

I woke with a jolt as my phone vibrated violently against my chest. I coughed, sitting up quickly and looking around the room, disoriented. It was dark, and I knew that hours had passed since I lied down. I groaned, slamming my palm into my forehead before I finally answered the phone.

"Santana!" Brittany chirped. I sighed, quietly, clicking on the lamp next to my bed, and checked the time on my phone. 9:36. Shit, where the fuck was Quinn?

"Hey, Britt." I said softly, rubbing my eyes. I hate taking naps. "How was your day?"

Brittany told me about the latest gossip in glee club. That Puck was dating Lauren Zizes, a girl I had no idea existed, really, and I wondered briefly how some nobody from the A/V club caught his attention. She then went on to say that Kurt was being bullied ruthlessly by Dave Karofsky, and that Kurt and Finn's parents were getting married this weekend. "They're, like, going to live together," Brittany said. I cocked my head, thinking about this, and then split into a wide grin.

"Oh, lord, I bet Finnocence completely loves that idea," I couldn't help but laugh.

"So, are you coming home this weekend?" Britt asked, expectantly.

I sighed again, glancing around the deserted room. My eyes landed on the bushel of flowers that were now wilting on my desk. "Quinn might not be able to bring me," I said. "Do you want to come get me? It's a long ass drive."

Brittany paused. "Well, I would, but I might get lost.. I don't have a GPS."

I started rubbing my fingers into my temple. I felt a migraine forming. "Well, ask one of the other glee losers to ride with you. _Not_ Rachel," I said, before she could even begin to think about it. "I'll text them the directions. But really, it's like, five hours here. And five hours back. We probably wouldn't get back to Lima until one or two in the morning."

Brittany seemed like she was about to burst with enthusiasm. "But it's like a totally cool _road trip!_ I'll pack all of my CDs and beef jerky." I could sense the smile in her voice. "And Rachel is so totally coming."

I groaned. "Brittany, please don't torture me like that. Rachel and I locked together for five hours straight would end up in homicide."

Brittany hummed speculatively. "Santana, that stuff is for _private time,_" She warned. "Plus, I didn't think you thought Rachel was pretty?"

My jaw dropped, and a long whoosh of air exhaled from my lungs. "Oh, god, Britt!" I said, exasperated. "Homicide.. not.. _homo.._ oh.. Jesus." I ended lamely. "Please, just ask Mercedes. Or even, um, Tina." I decided those two were the safest bet. "Or Mike." Or anyone other than Rachel frigging Berry.

But then something else dawned on me, and I had to roll my eyes. "And not _Artie._ I love you, but there's only so much I can take."

Brittany sighed into the receiver. "I told him we were having a girl's weekend. He says he doesn't care, he has Holo or something."

I rolled my eyes again even though Britt couldn't see it. That kid was unbelievable. "All right, Roger that. Did you say the Hummel/Hudson wedding was this weekend?" I wrinkled my face in a frown.

"Yeah, and I bet you can come. You can be my date!" Brittany sounded so excited. I just sighed.

"No, I can't," I said flatly. "Just take Artie. If I get invited, I'll bring someone." I squinted my eyes, wondering how hard it could be to pry Puck away from his rhino girlfriend. Or even that boy with the giant mouth. What was his name? Sean? Stan?

"Kurt is seeing someone," Brittany said, a pout evident in her tone. I scrunched my face, trying to interpret what, exactly, she was getting at.

"It's not you again, is it?" I asked, perturbed. That had been a ridiculous chapter of both of their lives, and I hoped it was well behind them.

"No," Brittany said, and her tone was a little tight. "A _boy._"

It took a few more seconds for it to click, and then I rolled my eyes again. "Brittany." I said seriously, but not harshly. "Right now, _you _are seeing someone. A _boy._"

Brittany huffed. "But, you and I both know – why can't you just be my date for the stupid wedding?"

I felt the pain throb in my temple, aggravated by my frustration and irritation. "Britt, can we talk about this later?"

I knew immediately it was the wrong thing to say. Brittany went completely silent on the line, and then after a few moments she just said, "Bye," and hung up.

I threw my phone, hard, then winced at the sound of it thunking against the door and skidding across the floor. _Fucking perfect._

I swung my legs over the edge of my bed, feeling anger well up inside of me. I was pissed, but what about or who at was a mystery, even to myself. I thought I was pretty much just mad at me, which made me twice as angry. Why _couldn't_ I be Brittany's date for that stupid wedding? Everyone would have probably thought it was a clever joke. It probably would have made the boys' mouths drool, thinking about us making out. It would have been harmless.

_Except, not to Brittany_, I thought, and sighed, because being pissed was useless. Brittany would have gotten ideas. Why the hell did Hummel have to go out and get himself a boyfriend? Now that he was parading about McKinley, showing everyone that Gay Is Okay and displaying his man, Britt would start to think dangerously along the lines of Melissa Etheridge, and Ellen and Portia.

She didn't make any sense, not even to me, but that's not far out of range for Brittany. She _was_ dating Artie, and seemed happy – at least as far as I could tell, from my limited interaction with her since August. Still, it was clear from that conversation, and the ones before, that Britt hadn't moved on from the idea of there being an _us._ I didn't know how to help her get the picture.

I slid to the floor from my bed, turning around to pull out the drawer that housed most of my underwear and bras. After reaching back into the far corner, I clasped the glass tequila bottle. I stared at the amber liquid, weighing the pros and cons, before I shrugged and slammed the drawer back into place, twisting myself around to sit on the floor. I unscrewed the cap and sloshed back several gulps, forcing myself to drink past the burn and the nausea.

**Xxxx**

"Santana," She sounded really pissed. I groaned, because her voice was sharp and piercing to my brain. I rolled over, fighting back the queasy roil of my stomach.

"Santana, I had perfect attendance during nine months of constant morning sickness," Quinn said tightly, ripping the blankets off of me. "There's no way I'm letting you miss classes just because you're hung over."

There was anger and disappointment dripping from her tone, something that made me wince and roll into a ball. I already felt like the world's most miserable fuck up, and here she was, just driving the point home.

"Get out of bed," Quinn snapped, reaching for my shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" I growled, then edged closer to the wall.

Quinn huffed. I couldn't see her face but I could imagine her expression. "You're a real fine piece of work, you know that?" I could hear her nudge the empty tequila bottle with her shoe. "What exactly do you have to feel sorry for yourself for?"

I rolled my eyes. "Please, just go the fuck away. Don't you have an appointment somewhere to look and act superior to everyone around you?" I knew I was hung over, because that one was lame.

Quinn seemed to bite down on her anger, before she finally grabbed my wrist and began yanking me towards the floor again. It a proven tactic, but it didn't stop me from getting annoyed with her. I flailed around, gripping my sheets and the mattress, twisting my wrist out of her fingers.

"For the love of god, Quinn, go be somebody else's Jiminy Cricket." I muttered, rubbing my wrist petulantly.

"What are these?" Quinn asked, her voice colored by surprise. I rolled over, peeking blearily out into the room.

I remembered, vaguely, laying the little bouquet of _Santana Hibiscus _out on her pillow, to make sure she found them before she went to bed. It was clear from the way she was staring at them that she hadn't come back to the dorm last night. My eyebrows shot up at that implication.

I felt stupid, now, for picking the damn things. "Uh, nothing," I muttered, shoving at my hair and sitting up slowly. "I got you those. To say sorry." I shrugged defensively.

Quinn turned around to stare at me, and there was real confusion on her face. It made me tighten my features into a scowl, and I refused to meet her eyes, though I knew she was scanning my face, trying to scrub it for any information. I just sat there with my knees curled up to my chest, resting my chin against them.

"I just really don't get you." Quinn said it quietly.

I laughed sharply. "Yeah, I don't either."

Quinn studied me for a while more, and I felt my cheeks start to pink beneath her gaze. "Where the hell were you last night, anyway?" I snapped, trying to divert her attention.

"I stayed with Joy in her room."

I raised an eyebrow, and Quinn shrugged. "I noticed _you_ missed the Vox meeting, and Sugar was gone, too."

I had to bite back a little laugh. "She kept me company. She's.. not that bad." I was going to say _nice,_ but I didn't want to shock Quinn and give her a coronary or something.

Quinn made a little 'hmm' noise and I shot my gaze to her face. The familiar look there had me smiling despite myself.

"C'mon, Quinn, Sugar looks like a malnourished flamingo." I teased her a little bit.

Quinn just shook her head and sat down on the bed next to me, sighing. "You're an idiot, Santana," She said, as if tired.

I rested my head against my knees and looked lopsided at Quinn. She wasn't looking at me, but she was sitting next to me, so I considered that progress. "I know." I reached out and brushed my fingertips along the top of her hand, skirting the knuckles idly.

Quinn looked down at our hands on the bed, hers a golden peach color, mine a dusky hazelnut. The contrast between us had always been something that slightly fascinated me; I enjoyed watching her hands play against my skin, or vice versa.

"We're going to have to figure this out sometime," Quinn said with a sigh. She looked at my face, finally, and I saw confusion and defeat in her green eyes. It made something inside me tangle and wrench, my heart aching slowly.

I nodded. "I know." I pretended to understand what exactly we were talking about, but I was a little clueless. Quinn can be more vague than Brittany sometimes.

Quinn's gaze flitted between both my eyes, as if she were trying desperately to read some meaning there. I bit my lip, unsure of what she was trying to ask or tell me.

Quinn looked on the brink of saying something else, and then just silently shook her head, heaving out a heavy breath. "Go take a shower. I'll take you out to lunch."

I stood up slowly, unwinding myself from my curled position. "So, what? You're going to play hooky too?"

Quinn shrugged a bit listlessly. "I guess." She sounded depressed, and it made my lips pull downwards. I leaned down and gripped her in a tight hug, pinning her arms to her side, squeezing gently.

"Thank you," I said quietly. I didn't know exactly what I was thanking her for – lunch? For putting up with my stupidity?

Quinn blinked at me as I stepped away and then into the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind me.

**A/N:** So you may have noticed that this is really short. It's only about halfway done. I had it to this point, took a break, and was going to finish it earlier tonight but, I found out my brother attempted suicide and he was/is in the E.R. So .. with everything that entails, I know I'm not going to be able to write for a while. I may not be able to update for much longer than you guys are used to, and I'm sorry about it. I didn't want to leave you all with that last chapter by itself, though, because I know it quasi-started a riot. Just try to be patient with me, and I'll go ahead and tell you (though I had intended to keep it kind of mysterious) that I never intended for this to be a Brittana fic, so (kindly) unwad your panties. Have patience for me, my family is going through a lot right now. I'll try to get back into writing once everything calms down.. however long that'll take.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 18 Part 2**

I slid into the car and slammed the door behind me. It was barely closed before the driver had launched herself over the center console to wrap me up in a warm hug. I smiled, enveloping my arms around her and inhaling her scent. It smelled like peaches, vanilla, and summer. Don't ask me why – she just always reminded me of summer. When she leaned back I smiled into her blue eyes, and reached up to brush a lock of hair out of her face.

Brittany was grinning, like she had a secret. She's awful at keeping secrets – _hello?_ Remember that fateful hallway conversation? – but even worse at keeping them from me. With a sense of growing dread I glanced around the car, and then let out an audible groan at the occupant who sat, prissily, in the back seat.

"I'll have you know, she made me sit back here the _entire ride_ here," Rachel Berry said, a little distraught. "I kept telling her that I would move when we picked you up, but she insisted." Her tone of voice indicated that she felt entirely put upon.

Brittany laughed, eyeing me, while she reversed out of Atherton's parking lot. I scanned the clumps of students, searching for the telltale glimmer of pink and blonde among those who were taking in the last of the day's light. She was nowhere to be found. I repressed a sigh.

Things were weird between us. I knew it had to do with Brittany, and the very fact that there was an 'us.' I didn't fully understand, though – what exactly did Quinn want from me? For me to stop being Brittany's friend? That would never happen. For me to promise not to sleep with her? But why? That type of promise was full of subtext; and in no way was I ready or willing for that. What, did Quinn think we were _in love_ or something? That I wanted to make lady babies with her? She was crazy. Sex is just sex for me. And I care about Quinn, but we'll never be together.

As if sensing my thoughts, Brittany asked: "Where's Quinn? Doesn't she want to see us?" She slowly braked the car, now jerking her head around in search of the girl.

Even Rachel perked up. "Yes, where is Quinn? I'd like to say hi."

I shrugged. "I think she has a track meet or something." I really didn't know, but I knew she didn't plan on seeing me off, much less making pleasantries with Brittany or Barbara back there.

Brittany let out a little sound that seemed disappointed, and even Rachel huffed a bit, crossing her arms in her lap. I glanced at her in the rearview, narrowing my eyes. I couldn't help but remember that confession Quinn made to me our first night at Atherton – that she'd gotten drunk and made out with Schnozz. I pressed my lips into a thin smile, thinking about all the torture I could put her through, if I hadn't sworn to keep it to myself.

I glanced back to Britt, who was humming to herself and bopping up and down in the seat. I was only a little worried about her driving out here for five hours straight, but I was a lot worried about her driving back for five hours straight. She wasn't the most attentive driver, and that may be an understatement. Generally, Britt scared the living shit out of me when she was behind the wheel. I don't even know how she legitimately passed her driver's test.

"Uh, Britt," I said, cautiously. I pretended to check my make up in the visor mirror, trying to seem casual. "If you want, I'll drive us back.. give you a little break.."

Brittany whipped her head over to glare at me, narrowing her eyes. Rachel, seeming alarmed, looked between the two of us quickly. "I can drive," Brittany muttered, petulantly.

I smiled at her my most warming smile, hoping it would put her off guard. "I know, sweetie. But you've gotta be tired of it by now. Does your foot hurt?"

Brittany cocked her head, thinking about it. I was on the verge of a little inner victory dance when Brittany brightened up. "Nope!" She said, grinning.

I had to swallow my groan. This was going to be a long five hours.

I was right in predicting Rachel would do nothing but bitch the entire damn ride. I wanted to slam my head against the glass of the window, over and over and over again. Rachel Berry and I are not friends, not even close. I think my most positive memory of her is that day at sectionals, when everyone accused me and Britt of leaking the set list to Coach Sue. I had admitted, then, that glee club was the best part of my day, and I wasn't deliberately going to sabotage it. I didn't think anyone believed me. But Rachel did. I tried to stop thinking bad things about her, at that point, but she just made it so damn _hard._ I mean, I've never met anybody as genuinely unlikeable as Rachel Berry, and that's coming from _me._

Brittany was enough of a barrier for the first few hours, but by the time ten o'clock rolled around, even she was cranky. Rachel seemed to think that the absence of Brittany's bright chatter invited her incessant nattering.

"Your campus looks very impressive," Rachel sniffed, shifting in the back seat. "I can't say I blame you for wanting to attend that school. Is their show choir any, uh, good?"

I rolled my eyes. She was terrible at digging for information. "Yeah, the director has won their sectionals and regionals almost every year for the last few. But I don't think we've ever beat out Vocal Adrenaline at nationals." I shrugged. I didn't care if Rachel knew these things. "And, dwarf, I didn't voluntarily go to that damn school. My dad made me."

Rachel seemed distracted now. "Oh, really? Do you think you will compete against us at regionals this year?"

I shrugged. "How should I know, Yentil? It depends on how they draw the regional lines. We're close enough to Pennsylvania that we might be lumped in with one of their regions."

"How is Quinn adapting to the new school?" Rachel asked, and my eyes flew open. It was such an abrupt change of subject I almost got whiplash.

"Uh, fine, I guess." I rolled my shoulders defensively, settling my arms across my stomach and glaring out at the black highway. Brittany was eerily quiet. I kept checking her to make sure she was still awake, and she was, but she was definitely _in the zone._

"I'm kind of worried about her," Rachel said, tentatively. I narrowed my eyes.

"She's fine, Rachel."

"Well she doesn't _seem_ fine," Rachel said arrogantly. I had to clench my teeth. "She hardly speaks to any of us anymore.. and just because you don't go to McKinley anymore, doesn't mean we aren't all still friends," She hesitated, "that we aren't all still _family._"

I groaned. "Kill me, please," I muttered. I hated it when Rachel went all sappy like this.

Brittany shifted in the seat next to me, sending me a tired smile, and then reached down and brushed her pinkie against the side of my forearm. I smiled, unfolding my arms and twining our pinkies together. Something about that just felt right; like the world shifted, and everything was brighter and more in focus. Like I hadn't even known I was walking around half-blind until now.

"Santana, despite your objections, you know that it's true," Rachel blathered on, oblivious. "Quinn is withdrawing from everyone. It worries me."

I rolled my eyes. "If you're so worried about your little girlfriend, why don't you call her or something? Why don't you spend the weekend with her?" I hadn't really meant to say 'girlfriend,' but once it was out of my mouth there was no taking it back. I noticed, suddenly, that it felt a little stifling in the car. Brittany had tensed up beside me, and Rachel froze. I glanced between the two of them, frowning. _What the fuck was that all about_?

Britt squeezed my pinkie before letting go, returning both hands to the wheel. I felt colder without her arm right next to me, and I rubbed my right palm absently over the goosebumps that rose up on my arm.

"I have been really busy lately, I can't just go cavorting off into the middle of nowhere for an entire weekend," Rachel said, with less conviction.

I snorted. "Rachel, please don't delude yourself. Your 'myspace video blog' does not constitute a 'busy life,'" I made air quotes in the appropriate places, disdain dripping from my tone. "You talk a good game, Man Hands, but you can't walk the walk. Worried about Quinn? Then do something about it." I shifted. "Not as if you have anything to _worry_ about. Quinn is doing fine. We spend every day together."

Rachel seemed curious at that. "How does she seem to you?"

I shrugged, glancing back outside the window. The truth was, for the last few days, Quinn _had_ been withdrawn and distant. She hadn't been as pissed off at me as she seemed that one day, and she came back and started sleeping in our dorm again. She was civil to me, but the warmth was gone. There hadn't been any casual touches or inside jokes, and certainly no sleeping in the same bed. It hurt me in an indescribable way, but I felt like it was my fault, somehow. I still didn't fully understand why or how, or what I'd done to put us at such odds. It made me feel awkward and lonely, even though we still spent all of our free time together.

"She's a big kid, Berry," I said, finally. "She's fine." I didn't know why I was so defensive of Quinn. I didn't even know, for sure, that she was _fine._ I hoped she was.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, we were pulling up in front of the Berry house. Rachel unfolded herself from the backseat and gave a massive stretch, groaning, and then leaned down next to my window. I rolled my eyes, slapping my hand on the button that rolled the window down. "I know I'm irresistible, Frodo, but –"

Rachel scowled. "Thanks for inviting me, Brittany," She interrupted, ignoring me completely and flashing Britt a warm smile. "I had fun singing Mmbop with you." She spun on her heel and then clicked determinedly up her driveway towards her front door.

I turned to Britt with a perplexed look. "Mmbop? Brittany, I thought I taught you better than that," It came out more tired than I had expected.

Britt flashed me a sheepish smile and rolled the car into drive.

When we made it back to Britt's house, something weird happened. It was like we'd barely been able to keep our eyes open on the last hour and half of the drive, but once her car was parked and we stretched, we were hit with a surge of adrenaline. I think it's called _teenage girl phenomena_, where whenever two girls in their teens get together they're overtaken by insatiable giggling and strange nocturnal behavior.

In her bedroom, I reclined against her headboard, watching her as she flung clothes out of her closet. She'd decided now – at around 2 a.m. – would be a good time to organize her wardrobe. It made me smile, because it was so _Brittany._ I'd missed this between us, this simplicity and the zany randomness that was inherently her. She was digging around with the door open, and I could hear shoe boxes and other debris clatter around inside.

"Hey, Britt?" I said casually, toying with my cell phone. "Do you believe in soul mates?"

There was a dull crash and a grunt before Britt poked her head out of the closet. "What, you mean like in checkers when you're about to win?"

I paused, frowning. Then I nodded. "Oh, no, that's checkmate, and it's in chess—"

Britt flashed me a bright grin. "I'm joking. I know what soul mates are."

I laughed softly, watching as she drug out an armload of shoe boxes and dumped them unceremoniously on the floor by the foot of the bed. "That's kinda like us, right?" She said, cocking her head, studying the giant pile of shoes.

I shrugged. "Well, kind of. We're like best friend soul mates. I meant the kind that happen between people in love.. like Jack and Rose."

"I'll never let go, Jack!" Brittany said dramatically, striking a sudden pose and gripping at the air. It had me chuckling.

Britt smiled at me, but then turned back to her disheveled pile of shoes, picking through several pairs before she held up strappy heels, dangling them triumphantly. "I knew these were here somewhere." She muttered with satisfaction, and then kicked at the pile with her own foot. She turned to study me, tilting her head. "You don't think two girls can be soul mates?"

I glanced up at her sharply, and then back down at my cell phone. I wasn't doing anything on it, just scrolling through my Twitter feed over and over again, because I had nothing else to do with myself. "Uh, I think they can if they're _gay,_" I said, shifting uncomfortably. I suddenly regretted even bringing this up.

Brittany hummed a little bit, that speculative noise she made whenever she knew she was going to have to tread carefully with me. It always made me tense, though with Britt it was like a shot in the dark about what _she_ considered a sensitive subject. She crawled onto the bed and sat down directly across from me. "I don't think it matters if you're a boy or a girl," She said sagely, and the direct way she was staring at me made my heart feel heavy in my chest. I suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe. "I think your soul doesn't pay attention to things like that. I've even heard of people having soul mates in buildings, and once a cow," Brittany was nodding soberly, as if these facts were not at all troubling.

I laughed, nudging her with my toes. "Okay, well, I don't think people can honestly fall in love with _cows," _I grinned at her. "Unless you're trying to tell me something about you and Tubbs.."

Brittany's eyes widened suddenly and she took in a deep breath. "What! Me and Lord Tubbington.." she trailed off, then looked away, studying the carpet. My own face constricted into a look of surprise, anticipating that Brittany was about to drop a giant bombshell on me. "Nope!" Brittany decided, grinning. "We're too different. See, he supports the Tea Party." Brittany scrunched her face into a look of confusion. "I'm a democrat."

I laughed, the deep, belly laugh that makes your abs hurt and your cheeks sore. Brittany grinned and giggled along with me.

I watched her, and I was suddenly struck by the memory of the weird moment in the car between her and Rachel. I narrowed my eyes. "Hey, Britt.. I know this is an insane question.."

Brittany bit her lip and nodded at me.

I sucked in a tense breath and then huffed it out. "Uh, there's nothing going on between you and Berry, is there?"

Brittany's face gave it away, though I didn't want to believe it at first. She looked absolutely paralyzed, her lips crumpled into her mouth, her ears and face flushing to a hot pink color. My own eyebrows shot up incredulously. "There _is?_ Between you and _Rachel?"_ I couldn't comprehend it.

Brittany ducked her head. "It just happened _once._ Right after you left."

I bit back a small laugh. "She is such a _lesbian,_ oh my god," I breathed.

Brittany scowled a little bit. "I don't think she's gay," and then she shrugged and let out a huge sigh. "I'm sorry."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I couldn't figure out if the shake in my voice was due to me trying to repress a laugh or if I was angry. Probably not angry. The idea of _anyone _getting down with Rachel Berry is kind of absurd, but Brittany? _My_ Brittany? I shook my head.

Britt winced. "She begged me to keep it a secret."

I laughed again. "That's just crazy. Who knew Berry was a carpet muncher. I bet she gets it from her gay dads."

Brittany didn't look happy at the words I was saying, but she couldn't stop herself from chuckling along with my tone. "It's not nice to say she's gay if she isn't," Britt told me solemnly, her eyebrows furrowed.

I shrugged. I knew about Rachel and Quinn, too – so now that was strike two for Dopey Dwarf. I ignored the fact that by the same logic, then both Britt and I were probably raging homos too. Oh, wait, except for the little fact that we both slept with men, too – and as far as I knew, Rachel hadn't even caught a glimpse of the hose beast.

I smirked at Britt now, amused. "So that means she cheated on Finn with you?" Oh, god, this was too rich, too funny. I couldn't wait to spill to – well, _everyone._

Brittany's eyes went wide. "Santana, you can't tell anybody! She begged me. It was kinda _my fault,_" Brittany said the last part of the sentence in a whisper. "I mean, I don't think she would have ever.. you know.. if I hadn't.."

I laughed again. "Britt, it takes two to tango. No matter how mortified Berry is of this little scandal, it doesn't mean she's not responsible."

Brittany lowered her eyebrows at me. "Santana, Rachel never told anyone about _you,_" She said in a low tone.

I tensed up, arching a brow at her. "And how would she know about _me,_ Britt? Unless you told her?"

Brittany shrugged. "I don't know, okay? I never did. But that night she told me she always knew about us. And she never told."

I huffed out a breath. "Britt, _everyone_ kind of knows about us. I mean, for god's sake, we make out at every party we're at together. Plus Puck spread that rumor about us having a threesome.." I jerked my shoulder in a shrug. "It's not the same. Rachel pretends to be perfect. This is so gonna knock her down a peg." I smiled darkly at the thought.

Brittany was looking at me with her sad eyes, the ones that twisted me into knots. "It's not nice to tell people's secrets, Santana," Brittany murmured. "Especially if you have some of your own you don't want told."

I studied Brittany, feeling a chill rise over my body. "Are you, like, threatening me, Britt?"

Britt's body jerked as if my words had slapped her. "What! No!" She seemed surprised, and she shook her head emphatically. "I'm just _saying, _it's like the law or something. You have a secret." Brittany used her thumb to gesture to herself. "Rachel has the same secret." She paused, as if her own sentences had confused her, and then frowned. "But, if neither of you tell, then nobody gets hurt by the secret. See?"

I rolled my eyes. "Brittany, your logic is flawed. Because this secret of mine is no big deal. I already told you, everyone _knows_ that we make out and I think most of them realize we've hooked up.. just.. gah, please, Brittany!" I threw my hands up. "Let me tell somebody about this! Hamburgler Finn would _flip out!_ Have you ever seen an elephant cry? It would be epic."

Brittany was shaking her head before I'd even finished my sentence. "Usually I wouldn't care if people know about me having sex with somebody," She said stoically, "But Rachel made me promise. She's a good friend."

I scowled, picking at the bedspread beneath me. "Fine. I guess. But I'm so saving it for a rainy day."

Brittany angled her head at me. "Besides, you _do_ have secrets, Santana," She said quietly, and my eyes whipped up to meet hers.

I shrugged, because I knew it was true. But then I smiled. "You know what that means, though, right?" Britt just looked at me. "You're everybody's dirty little secret."

Britt grinned at me.

I eyed the door to my house warily, as if it were the den of a bloodthirsty mythological beast. It was deceptively peaceful, a calm face showed to the world. I wasn't looking forward to this, but I needed to get my car. I was tired of relying on Quinn and Brittany to drive me around. I checked the time again, nervously, because I knew my dad was still at work. My mom's car was in the driveway, though, so I knew I'd have to see her.

I'd walked the six blocks from Britt's house to mine, because she was getting ready for the Hudson/Hummel wedding. She'd tried, again, to get me to come with her – even going so far as to call Kurt on the phone right in front of me and ask him if I could come – but I still refused. Britt was mad, but I knew I couldn't do it. She didn't understand why I was willing to make out with her at random parties, but refused to be seen in a formal setting as her official date. It was the nuances that Brittany was blind to.

With a fortifying sigh, I heaved myself up the steps that led to my stoop, and then turned the knob and pushed the door open. It wasn't locked – it almost never was. I glanced around, noting that the house was eerily quiet – no music, no mutter of the television or hum of the vacuum. Danika must have today off. I inhaled the scent, which was furniture polish and the subtle undertones of spicy food, which was baked into the couches and never truly went away. As apprehensive as I'd been, I had missed my house. I missed my mother and even my father's gruff voice and the way his mustache would quiver whenever anyone mentioned something bad about his favorite baseball team.

"Mami?" I called, and began wandering towards the back of the house towards the kitchen and the screened in sun room.

"Mom—" I said again, pushing the door open to the sun room blindly. There was a muffled gasp and a grunt, and I stood there, rooted in spot by what I saw.

There she was – my mother, naked on the shag rug, with Julio, our pool boy, rolling off of her. I caught a glimpse of his rippled back and clenched buttocks before I registered what was going on and then slammed my eyes shut, as if that immediate denial could wash away the scene I'd just witnessed.

"Oh, shit," I said, and then backpedaled, shutting the door with a solid snap. I turned around and bolted, skidding along the expensive Pervuian rugs that scattered along the flawless mahogany floor. I took the stairs two at a time, racing up into my bedroom, where I shut the door behind me and then sat, breathing heavily, on the edge of my bed.

My hands shook slightly as I lifted them to smooth out my hair, patting it down reflexively. I fought back the hot flood of tears that wanted to escape from my eyeballs, though they were a knee jerk reaction, really. I wasn't entirely surprised that my mother was cheating on my father – but with Julio? He's, like, eighteen. And not even that cute, or else _I_ would have slept with him a long time ago, when he first came on to me. I shuddered at the thought, and then pushed it away.

I sat up suddenly, and then began to gather a few things that I knew I was missing from Atherton. My room felt shut up and stuffy, because nobody but Danika had been up here since my exile. Everything was neatly in its place, thanks to the cleaning lady. I had wanted to spend the night here tonight, snuggled into my own bed and surrounded by the sounds and smells of my own house, but I knew that that plan was ruined. I couldn't stay here with that image hanging heavy on my mind.. I couldn't sit with my father and eat tamales while my mother looked across at him, _knowing._ I couldn't pretend that our family wasn't broken, at least not anymore.

I shoved the items I'd picked up clumsily in a bag, and then I searched for my car keys. I usually left them on my dresser right by my door, but Danika always – aha, there. She'd hung them up on a peg directly next to my dresser. My hand was steady now as it reached out to pick up the keys.

I walked back downstairs with purpose, keeping my eyes trained on the door. I planned to go directly outside and then approach our garage that way, instead of cutting through the laundry room. I didn't want to risk running into Mom or Julio.

She swept into the living room, wrapped in a silk robe with tropical trees and sunsets depicted on it. She'd had the frame of mind to tame her hair into a messy pony tail, but she hadn't bothered to fix her smeared makeup. I stopped on the stairwell, staring down at her. She looked up at me.

"What are you doing here, _mija_?" She asked softly, with something like resignation in her dark eyes.

I lifted my shoulder in a shrug, took another step. "I came home this weekend. My friend's parents are getting married and I was invited." It was an easy lie. It made me wonder if it was so easy for her to lie to me. "I wanted to surprise you and Papa.."

My mother nodded, then let out an almost silent sigh. "_Tu padre_ will not appreciate you disobeying him by coming home," She said, though her words were neutral. "Still, it is good to see you, _hija_. You're so skinny." Her face cracked into a smile that was fake warmth, the lines around her eyes not even once crinkling with mirth.

I had to repress a sneer, my palms clutching at the overnight bag I had in my hands. "Well, I'm not staying long enough to wake the dragon," I told her, and then took the rest of the steps in quick succession. The weight of her gaze followed me, and I took the last few steps up to the door. "I'm taking my car back to Atherton. If you don't tell him, I bet he won't notice," I wondered if she recognized the irony dripping from my tone.

I almost opened the door and swept outside, away from her, but I caught the pain in her eyes. It was there for a moment, fleeting, and then it disappeared behind a wall of submission. I had always been too strong-willed for my mother, too wild, too hot tempered. She'd dreamt of a delicate daughter who loved satin dresses and playing tea party, who wanted ballets and romance and soft society life. Instead she'd gotten me – hard-hitting, defensive, angry, with a mouth like a sailor. As a child I'd disdained her soft sequin gowns and powdered hands, instead preferring to wrestle in the mud with my cousins or play monster trucks. Too much like my father. Right now, I think I preferred it that way, though part of me ached for the connection between us that we should have had.

I could never win, could I? I wasn't the boy that my father wanted, so he ignored me, no matter how much 'like him' I was. Nor was I the gentle daughter my mother craved. Instead I was this – this girl with too many harsh angles and too much fire, but not enough heart. I always felt like this when I interacted with them, feeling my inadequacies sharply, dodging the accusations and judgment that shot from my parents like arrows. Something about the way she was looking at me stopped me, though, and I rounded on her.

She was clutching her hands in front of her, and the sheepishness and the shame I saw etched in her features disgusted me. I felt the wall of anger that I'd been studiously repressing build inside me, but I clamped it down. With fury on my face, I stomped towards her, and pulled her into a rough hug. She seemed surprised, and had cowered almost as if she'd expected me to hit her – but I didn't, and before she realized what was happening I was shoving myself away from her and then I opened the door, slamming it shut behind me.

There were too few hugs between my mother and I, and even though I didn't approve of her thing with Julio, I was trying to let her know that I didn't hate her because of it. I understood, a little bit. Or at least I think I did.

**A/N:** Don't crucify me because this is basically a Brittana chapter. All of this is happening for a reason.

Also, I really appreciate everyone's sympathy for my brother & my family. He's physically okay.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone still reviewing! BAHAHA yes, I thought of "THAT IS MAHOGANY!" too. Such a flawless THG moment.

Also, I've never seen the movie Wild Child, so any resemblance is pure coincidence.

**Chapter 20**

**(OK, I skipped 19, because FF automatically numbers them.. So uhh. Yeah.)**

I didn't realize how lonely the drive up from Lima was, especially after the way that Rachel and Brittany could make sound reverberate and intensify when locked in a car. Five hours is not an easy stint, especially with nothing better than your iPod and occasional unsafe texting to get you through. By the time I pulled into Atherton, the sun was setting on Sunday night, and I was irritable and exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower, sit down with a good Cosmo, maybe sip on some wine (not likely, but hey, a girl can dream) and fall asleep to the new Nicki Minaj album. It's weird, I know, but I think that chick's pretty fly, and Brittany made me buy a few of her songs on iTunes, so what can I say?

I grabbed my overnight bag and the few shopping bags I'd acquired from the Lima mall earlier, and after parking my car, I began the ascent back upstairs to my dorm room. It had been a long weekend, and though I couldn't deny that I missed Brittany, sometimes so much it hurt, it still took a lot of energy to deal with her 24/7. I had never really realized that before now, the first separation we'd ever been in since we were four, but damn, that girl is just.. Always going. Why isn't she ever _tired?_ It's unnatural.

I jiggled the handle to the dorm room and then pushed it open with my shoulder, trying hard not to let it slap against the opposite wall. No luck. I winced, waiting for Quinn's signature bitch about slamming the door around to sound off. It didn't, though, and so I thought I was in luck after all - she might be gone doing something and I avoided her hearing that particular little blunder.

I realized how much of a fool I was to hope for that, because, let's face it, it was like 8 o'clock on a Sunday night, where the hell else is Quinn going to be, besides sitting in our room studying? I noticed first the way her eyes slid up to me, the way that they were cold, but something about the color of them made them seem hot anyway. I offered her a blasé smile, dumping my bags on my bed unceremoniously.

Quinn sighed, and I could sense her winding up for a lecture on me living out of bags again. No, seriously, I could practically hear her asking me, _did you even wash any of those clothes you wore while you were gone? No? So what, you just repacked them and brought them back? _Picturing the horror on her face when she realized that that little assumption was true made me almost want to let her go on the tirade. Almost.

"I got you something!" I told her with a smile, and it stopped whatever sermon she was about to serve.

"Really? What is it?" Trust Quinn not to get all bashful and aww-you-shouldn't-have. That's okay, we were a lot alike in that regard.

"It's right up your alley, Blondie," I told her with a smirk. I began digging around the bags I'd gotten from the mall, until I finally found the brown paper sack I'd stuffed inside the one that housed my brand new pair of jeans and sexy black pumps.

"I didn't have time to wrap it," I warned her.

Quinn's eyebrow winged upwards. "Santana, you don't know how to wrap stuff."

I shrugged, but couldn't contain the smile that wanted to explode off my face as she delicately held the brown paper sack.

She pulled out a clear glass skull that was about the size of a grapefruit. She frowned at it, turning it around and around, studying it. She noticed that it was full of clear liquid. "What's in this?" She asked, her tone appraising.

I smiled. "Vodka."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Oh, so you mean this is a gift for _you."_

I laughed, shrugging. "I saw it and thought of you, what can I say?"

Quinn smirked, and I could tell she was trying not to fully smile at me. "It doesn't surprise me that even when you're trying to do something nice for someone, there's still something in it for you."

I scowled at her, because her words stung, even though I knew she wasn't being entirely serious. Wait, _was_ she?

Quinn was still eyeing the glass skull, running her fingers over the smooth ridges that made up the cheekbones and, ew, the nose hole. "What, did you spend your whole weekend locked up in a liquor store?"

I turned away from her, picking through the spilled contents of my mall trip. "Uh, no." I didn't realize I was pouting, but I guess she did, because she snuck up behind me and gave me a quick hug with her arms wrapped around my midsection. The sudden contact stilled the breath in my lungs and had my whole body heat up like a flare.

"Thank you," She said quietly, nuzzled into the crook of my neck. I nodded dumbly, because my throat had a giant knot in it and I thought I was going to hyperventilate at any moment.

When Quinn stepped away I remembered how to breathe, so I let out a ragged breath and then continued picking through my new clothes. I separated them into piles of tops and bottoms and shoes, and then finally threaded through the jewelry.

Quinn pretended not to be too interested in what I got, but she's a natural girl - like me - and she can't resist the lure of new clothes. I just smiled at her knowingly when she casually sat down on my bed and began to examine the slacks I'd bought, running her fingers over the material.

"That shirt is so cute," She commented on one that was a satiny lavender. It really wasn't my usual thing - I tend to stick with jewel tones, like ruby, emerald, and sapphire - but it had been on sale, probably because the color was more for spring. I studied it, sliding my eyes from it to her, and then shrugged.

"Take it," I said, picking at it with a couple fingers and flicking it her way.

Quinn glanced down at the shirt, now sitting in her lap. "All right, I'm not above accepting charity," She said airily, holding the shirt up in front of her speculatively.

I grinned, because she was so amusing even when she was trying to sound superior. I'd let her have all the clothes I bought just to keep that smile on her face. Well, except for maybe.. Well, not the shoes. Those were just too gorgeous. But any of the clothes, clothes? Hell yeah.

"Want me to model anything for you?" I asked her with a lewd smirk. Quinn's eyes raked up to mine and I tensed, my face flooding with color. I'd forgotten, for a millisecond, that we were trying to pretend like those two nights had never happened. Shit.

Quinn's eyebrows rose so high on her forehead I wondered if they were going to disappear into her hairline, and I just stood there, grasping a pair of heels awkwardly. "Uhh.. Hmm." I cleared my throat, and then turned around, shoving clothes back inside their plastic bags. "Let's just pretend I didn't just thrust a whole frickin' shoe store into my mouth, okay?" My cheeks were burning. I've never apologized for trying to be sexy before, but, well, Quinn had that effect on me - always making me feel like an idiot, and the things that came naturally to me just seemed somehow awkward and unnatural sometimes. God.

She let a small smile spread on her face, which just made me blush harder. I scowled, irritated at my own stupidity, and then turned without saying anything and stomped into the bathroom. Shedding clothes, I decided to take a scalding hot shower, and I prayed that she'd be asleep by the time I got out.

My skin felt raw and tender by the time I finally turned off the nozzles, when the water was starting to run cold - something that had never happened before, because Atherton has, like, giant, endless water heaters - and wrapped in a fluffy white towel, I gritted my teeth and took a huge breath. The bathroom was full of steam, so much so that even the bright light seemed dim and mellow against the flashy marble tile. I clutched at the doorknob, glossy with sweat, and turned it, letting it swing open and send in a huge gust of cooler air. The sudden temperature change had goosebumps raising on my skin, and I stepped back into the room, avoiding looking at Quinn's side of it.

I immediately crouched down and slid open my underwear drawer, looping my fingers through a pair of lacy panties, when I sensed, rather than felt, Quinn ghosting behind me. I stood up quickly, the tiny hairs on the back of my neck and down my back rising, probably from Quinn's body heat. I went to turn around and face her, but she pressed her palm against my shoulder and another one against my hip, stilling my movements. I dropped the underwear I'd just retrieved and released a quavery breath.

I swallowed thickly, because just the slight pressure of her soft hands against me, even through a thick towel, was enough to make my insides clench and my heart race. I could sense that inevitable heat begin at the core of me and then spread out, like lava, making my skin burn and my nerves jolt and jerk in time to my heartbeat.

Quinn slid her fingers along the seam of the towel where it was secured beneath the juncture of my arms, and with a firm tug, jerked it away from my body. It fell to the ground and tangled at my feet, leaving me utterly exposed. My skin immediately erupted in a hot flash of goosebumps, where the air met skin that wasn't entirely dry, and my mouth worked hard to produce some kind of noise - a word, a sound, anything - but all that came out was a strangled sob of breath as Quinn pressed her lips against my shoulder.

She drug her mouth over the skin there that was achingly sensitive, but there was nothing gentle about her mouth or the firm press of her body against me. I registered, distantly, the feel of her breasts against my shoulder blades and the soft cotton panties against the curve of my butt, but mostly I was paying attention to the way one of her arms snaked around my midsection, pinning me to her, and the way she was biting and sucking at my shoulder and the bridge of my neck, running her tongue mercilessly over the little hot spots she was creating.

My mind was overwhelmed by sensation, and I couldn't keep up with my body - it was responding on its own, my stomach quivering and clenching, my nerves buzzing and pounding with desire and need that was white hot. I slammed my eyes shut and tried not to sway on my feet, assaulted by the overwhelming urge to slam myself against Quinn. I resisted the desire to grind into her like a cat in heat, but only barely.

Quinn was licking hotly along the nape of my neck, and I couldn't control the moan that wrenched from my lips. I've never been so soundly seduced or taken over before; I've never been so swiftly turned on, from the point of nothing to this - this raging heat and incessant quake at the center of me. My knees began to wobble, because I couldn't concentrate on standing any longer.

Quinn surprised me by supporting more of my weight on her arm, and instead of angling me towards the bed, like I figured she would, she used her body to turn me towards the computer desk. With a graceless shove, she nudged me up against it, effectively bending me over it. My nipples and breasts scraped against the unyielding, cold wood, my stomach jumping when it made contact with it, and I bit my lip, color flooding my cheeks when I realized she was literally going to fuck me like this - like a slutty secretary or something.

"Quinn," I muttered, and tried to turn around, because this utter lack of control I had was making me nervous and a little scared. It made my heart gallop in my chest even more violently. Quinn stilled my motions by gripping me tightly, hugging her body against mine, and now her free hand was running up and down the length of my spine, following the curve of my hip and then dragging over one butt cheek, to tease the sensitive flesh beneath, dragging her fingers along the soft skin along the arc of my inner thigh.

I gritted my teeth because my body was betraying me, my hips bucking against her in a feral demand for pressure. I could feel my center clenching hungrily, and wetness was dripping down my thighs. It was mingled shame and arousal that had me panting against the desk, using my arms to support myself as best I could, though Quinn's torso was still pressed firmly against mine and she was sucking, hard, along the flesh of my back. The feeling was somewhere between pleasure and pain, and it made me grunt and rock my hips rhythmically against nothing.

I realized, through the red fog that surrounded my brain, that this was Quinn's version of angry sex. I had had enough of it in the past to recognize it in its many forms, and it made my heart drop to comprehend that Quinn wasn't as unaffected as she seemed.

"Oh, god, fuck me," I groaned, as Quinn's mouth continued low along my spine, now biting at my lower back. I arched and squirmed against her, fingers scrabbling against the slick wood.

Quinn shocked a muted scream from my throat by unceremoniously shoving two fingers between my lips, without warning, plunging into my folds and with such force, I was sure she was trying to reach my belly button. I groaned, the instant sting smoothed over the sweltering echo of pleasure, and my breathing built into a ragged staccato as she wrenched in and out of me, each thrust harder and more brutal. She was leaning away from me, now, standing upright, using the whole of her body to slam her hand against me at an unforgiving pace.

I felt my body begin to shake entirely too soon, the orgasm ripping through me with an uncontrollable throb, tearing tattered moans from my lips, my forehead pressed hard against the desk. I felt my insides suck at Quinn's fingers greedily, clenching and pulsating, and almost obligingly she leaned even harder into me, going deeper than I thought possible. She continued pumping her wrist well into the aftershocks, only slowing down when my body went limp and loose.

I knew that my thighs were drenched, and I bit my lip as Quinn gently disengaged from me. My lower lips and insides felt swollen and tender, and I nearly yelped when I felt her press the discarded towel against it, doing her best to mop up the mess that she could. All I could hear was the rush of blood in my ears and my own heart slamming into my ribcage.

I felt weak and, strangely, used, though I knew that technically Quinn derived no physical satisfaction from what had just happened. That didn't change the principle of the act - that Quinn had thoroughly dominated me, and I realized with a start that the entire act had, from beginning to end, happened without her kissing me on the lips once. Just thinking about it had me scrunching my face up in a nameless shame.

I didn't think I could bear looking at her, so I was grateful when she gently pulled at my hips and, in a fluid motion, helped me slide into bed. The blankets were soft and cool, and they soothed my hot, over stimulated skin.

I was mildly surprised when Quinn clicked off the bedside lamp and then tucked underneath the blankets as well. She was wearing only a spaghetti strap top and underwear, but I was acutely aware of my nakedness. I felt awkward and shy, like I didn't know how to lay in bed with her.

She solved that problem by sliding her body next to mine, shifting one arm underneath my head and wrapping the other over my midsection, pulling me close to her. I hid my face against her neck and just breathed her in, my chest still pounding with uneven breaths and a rapid heartbeat.

Quinn shifted above me, moving slightly away to angle her face downwards. I had my eyes pressed tightly closed, even in the darkness, because I felt like I couldn't meet her gaze. So I was caught off guard when her lips pressed gently against my own, warm and soft. She then sprinkled light kisses all over my face, and each one drained the tension from beneath my cheeks and lips, allowing my features to fully relax.

To my own surprise, I felt my eyes fill up with tears, and I had to chew on my lip to keep them tightly behind my eyelids. I didn't understand it. I think mostly because I was completely drained, and the contrast of the way she'd been working into my body a moment before and the simple tenderness of her kisses now was slowly undoing me. My heart didn't know how to react. It was getting harder and harder for me to keep Quinn safely within the little brackets that let me keep my distance and still enjoy her.

"What's wrong?" Quinn murmured against my cheek, because she'd rubbed her lips against the wetness there and I realized that the tears were slowly leaking out of the corner of my eyes.

She pulled herself away, looking down at me, now with alarm. "Did I hurt you? Oh my god, Santana, I'm so sorry-"

I shook my head violently, denying it and the way her voice shook. I pressed my face closer to her, and sucked in an unsteady breath. "No, I'm okay," I whispered back.

"Then what's wrong? Santana?" Quinn was full of concern now, and she lifted her hand to drag the pad of her thumb over my face, wiping at the flow that dribbled down my cheekbones.

Her touch was so soft and gentle, and it made me choke on a sob. "Nothing. Please, just nothing." I lifted my hand to spread my palm against her cheek and I brought her face closer to mine, to press my lips against hers delicately. I held her against me for a moment, and I felt her melt into the kiss, though her thumb was rubbing against my face slowly.

My tears dried up, and with a thick swallow I banished the rest of them. I pulled away from her and then nuzzled my face into the crook of her shoulder, taking deep breaths. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest loudly.

Almost reluctantly, Quinn draped her arm around me again, and she lowered her own head to lay on the pillow. She rested her chin against the top of my head briefly, before she shifted and then pressed her forehead against mine. I took a deep breath, gathering my courage, and finally opened my eyes. Hers were searching mine, and the look on her face made me have to fight down the urge to curl into a ball and bawl my heart out.

Quinn shifted her face and pressed one last, glancing kiss against my lips. Her eyes stayed open, and so did mine, and the sensation made it feel like the world stopped spinning for a moment.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, so softly I wasn't sure I'd actually said the words.

"No," Quinn said, shaking her head slowly, and I could feel our foreheads slide against one another.

I didn't understand her denial. I _was_ sorry - sorry for whatever I had done that had put those emotions in her, the ones that could only find their way out by having sex with me the way she had. I opened my mouth to try to explain, but Quinn shushed me.

"Just go to sleep, Santana," She murmured, her breath puffing against my lips and making them tingle. She began stroking my hair softly, and the firm press of her fingers against my scalp made me instantly drowsy. My lids dropped heavily and my breathing immediately evened out.

I was riding in the space between wakefulness and dreaming for what felt like hours. Quinn's breathing stayed steady, and her fingers kept massaging into my hair, drawing invisible patterns against my skull. I knew I was a heartbeat away from sleep.

"One day, you're going to have to choose." I heard it as if through a fog, and I wasn't sure if Quinn had actually whispered it or if it was part of a dream. "Soon." I don't know if I imagined it, but I felt like I could smell the moist salt of her tears, and dimly, I thought I tasted the warmth of one against my lips.

**xxxxx**

**A/N: **I know, so, so short.. And also maybe shameless smut, but I'm not sorry. :P

If anybody's interested, I started a Brittana fic too. It's called "Dark Side."


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N:** Thanks for all the encouragement & reviews, guys. I really do appreciate it! :]

I also.. really appreciate the death threats I keep getting? If this fic doesn't end in Quinntana. You guys are hilarious, but also psychotic, k? Now I know what Ryan Murphy must feel like some days.

And, I'm glad that SOMEONE likes the way I write Brittany. XD God. I never could believe that so many people don't like her.

**Chapter 21**

The first thing I noticed the next day was that I was completely naked. I'm not one to sleep in the nude, so I woke up feeling a little alarmed. The second thing I noticed was that Quinn and I were tangled together like a pair of cats, limbs intertwined, facing each other.

I was surprised that I woke up before she did, since that pretty much never happened. Looking at her now, I noticed that she seemed almost like an entirely different person while she slept. Her face was soft and relaxed, and it made her seem younger somehow, more vulnerable and open. It made me smile briefly.

I tried not to think about the things that had happened the night before.. something about it still made my chest burn with emotions that I couldn't begin to understand or express. I knew I was in trouble with Quinn. This thing between us had gone a lot deeper than I had ever intended. I wondered if she felt the same way.

But of course, there was no way for me to figure that out, since I couldn't imagine having that conversation with her_. Hey, Quinn, so you feelin' like you might be in love with me at all? Even a tiny bit?_ God, no. The mortification and discomfort from just imagining it made me feel itchy and anxious, like I needed to get away from her and clear my head.

While I laid there, staring at her in the dim room, I decided to be completely honest with myself. Was I falling in love with Quinn Fabray? That question felt strange and otherworldly to ask. But the answer was even more opaque and hard to discern. I shook my head gently against the pillow, blinking hard. Mostly because I was afraid of the immediate answer that my popped into my head. I didn't want to think about it.

Screw being completely honest with myself. Since when did that ever do me any good?

I had no idea what time it was, but I knew that before long her alarm would go off and we'd have to get ready for the day. I was worried that this would turn into one of those awkward, post-sex days where she tried to act like nothing had happened, and I just followed her lead because I didn't know what else to do. At least I could be honest enough to admit that I loved kissing Quinn, and lying next to her, and she was pretty good at sex. For an amateur, anyway.

I shifted, snuggling myself closer to her. She was warm and sleepy, and she murmured slightly, opening her arms for me to burrow into. I rubbed my nose into the crook of her neck and began kissing her gently there. She made a humming noise in her throat, and tilted her head, giving me more access.

I rubbed my lips over her skin, tasting it. It was warm and sweet, and smelled fresh. I ran my tongue against the pulse there, and then sucked gently, smiling when I felt it quicken.

Quinn's breathing changed. I could tell she was waking up. I lifted myself up on one elbow so that I was hovering over her, and pressed a soft kiss against her lips, and then trailed my mouth along her jawline, creeping up towards her ear. I licked the soft spot directly behind her lobe, and I felt her body jerk with a sudden gasp.

When I glanced back at her, her eyes were dark and glassy. Her face was flushed and her lips were parted slightly, and I smiled at her, leaning down to take the bottom one between my teeth. I sucked on it for a while, then ran my tongue along it. Quinn moaned gently, and her body rolled slowly.

I shifted to straddle her, pushing the blankets down around her knees. I felt a little weird, since I was naked and it was daylight, but the way she looked at me made it worth it. I smirked at her and began running my palms against her chest, over her shirt. I felt her nipples harden.

"Santana," Quinn said, and her voice was breathy and thick with sleep. I smiled at her.

"Morning," I murmured, and then slid my hands beneath her shirt, grazing my palms against her skin. It was incredibly soft and smooth. I played with the little ridges in her stomach and against the tight definition of her ribs, skating my fingers along the curve of her breasts. Quinn slammed her eyes shut and bit her bottom lip, suppressing a moan. I danced my fingers against her hardened nipples, watching her face. It was fascinating to see the play of emotion there, especially since Quinn was always so controlled and stoic. It was a little like watching a storm rise against the sea.

Quinn began running her hands up and down my arms, pressing against them urgently. I smiled, even though she couldn't see me, and obliged, finally cupping her breasts fully and then rolling them beneath my palms. Quinn shuddered, arching against me, and I pushed her shirt upwards to bunch around her shoulders. I leaned down and licked against a nipple, tweaking the other one sharply.

I noticed for the first time that Quinn was the utter opposite of me. Everywhere that I was dark, she was fair. Her nipples were the color of rose petals, a delicate pink. Her skin was all cream and gold against mine, which was a caramel toffee. Even her hands, which pressed against my shoulders and squeezed tightly, were more dainty and delicate than mine.

I wanted to see more of her. My mouth wanted to taste every inch of her skin.

I slowly trailed kisses along her breast, sucking occasionally at the tender skin. I pressed my lips against the dip in between them, and then slid upwards to suck on the jut of her collarbone. Quinn bucked beneath me, and her breathing was frantic and unsteady. I smiled, then continued my lazy descent down her body. Quinn became more frantic the lower I got, squirming and rocking her hips slightly. I slid my fingers underneath her ribcage, holding onto her, and rubbed my thumbs against her sides slowly. My mouth was hot and wet against her stomach, and now my center was resting on top of Quinn's panties. I could feel the heat coming off of her in waves, and it made my stomach tighten with longing.

I slid even further down, and began to tease the skin directly above her panty line. My hands slid down, past her hips, and I hooked my fingers into the elastic band.

I startled, and glanced upwards, when Quinn's fingers circled my wrist. I could smell her through her panties, and it was hot and intoxicating. I could see the dampness that was pooling there, turning the material dark.

"No, Santana," Quinn murmured, and pulled at my wrist. She tugged me upwards, and I slid against her body, rubbing my breasts and abdomen against hers. It sent little shivers through me, making my thighs twitch.

"What's wrong?" I whispered. Quinn's eyes were dark and cloudy, and she was biting her lip. I lifted my hand to stroke against her cheek, running my fingers against her hairline. I traced a fingertip against the delicate shell of her ear.

Quinn shuddered and let out a searing breath. She looked at me for a few moments, her eyes glancing between my own. "I'm not ready." She said it so quietly I felt like I almost didn't hear her.

I lifted myself up and then looked down at her again. She was nearly shaking beneath me. "I'd say you're pretty ready, Quinn," I murmured, and then leaned down and pressed a kiss against her lips. "I won't hurt you, you know." I said it while I looked into her eyes.

She smiled at that, and it made my heart beat one thick beat in my chest. "I know."

She was wriggling now, but not the sexy kind. She was trying to get out from underneath me. I frowned, then pressed downwards with my hips, pinning her there. She looked at me with a slightly guilty expression and it made me scrunch my face in a scowl. "What exactly is going on here?" I asked, a little bit louder. "It's cool for you to do whatever to me, but I can't touch you?" I didn't want to admit it, but the idea kinda stung. I mean, if I didn't actually care about Quinn and genuinely want to show her how amazing sex could be, I'd probably dig the arrangement. What _isn't_ there to like about it? Still, it left me feeling insulted, or insecure. Like maybe Quinn didn't think I would be very good at it. Or like she didn't trust me.

Quinn was looking away nervously now, chewing on her lip. "Uh, it's not as bad as you're making it sound." Her voice was unsure. She closed her eyes and then brought her hands up to rub over her face, making the skin stretch and distort her features for a moment. "The idea just kinda freaks me out, okay?" She said finally, with her fists pressed against her eye sockets. "Like, somebody down there. Doing _that_."

"I'm not just.. somebody, Quinn." I told her, seriously. "And I let you do whatever you want to me."

Quinn was pressing against her face even harder, and I wondered if she wasn't going to make her eyeballs explode. "Oh, god, Santana, I _know_," She said with a groan. "It's just kinda scary. I don't know. I see what it's like for me to do it to you, and it makes me feel…" She paused, searching for the word. "Incredible. Awesome."

I nodded. "Yes, I have that effect on people."

Quinn snorted. "But I'm just worried that.." She trailed off and let out a huge sigh.

I studied her. "Quinn, you don't need to fear the big O. Believe me, it's much more incredible to experience than to just donate to people." I rolled my eyes. "_Especially_ if somebody is willing to, you know, give you a big kiss." I smirked at her. "Not everybody is as charitable as I am about that, believe it or not. But I'll humor you, and we'll start with baby steps, okay?"

Quinn pulled her arm down and peeked at me with one eye. "What do you mean?"

I chuckled at her tone, which was apprehensive and nervous, but also full of all that Quinn snottiness that was just so _her._ "Just relax, Goldilocks."

I could feel her body beneath me, and it was doing the opposite of relaxing. In fact, it seemed like every muscle in Quinn's body was tense and shaking. I slid off of her and snugged against her side, tucking my body against hers so that every inch of my skin was pressing into her in some way. I began stroking her stomach, and when Quinn finally lowered her arms away from her face, I leaned up and kissed her gently on the mouth.

It took a m inute, and a lot of gentle pressure and rubbing, but Quinn began to respond to the kiss. It was slow, and I kissed her without any demands, only unhurried warmth. I could sense her calming down by degrees, as her muscles unknotted and her heartbeat evened back out. My hand continued to stroke against her belly, trailing my fingertips against her ribcage and the undersides of her breasts. I felt her breath quicken and stutter against my lips.

I slid my tongue into her mouth at the same time I slid my fingers beneath the seam of her panties. Quinn choked on a strangled sound, but I swallowed it, and only slid my fingers against the outside of her mound softly. Quinn's chest was heaving now, and her breathing was labored and sobbing against me. I broke our kiss and she turned away, sucking in on air. She had one hand fisted in the comforter, the other tangled in my hair as I leaned in to lick and nip against her neck again.

Quinn's legs were trembling restlessly, and I slid a single finger down against the crevice of her lips. Quinn bit down on her lower lip and squeezed her eyes closed. I lifted my head to watch her as I trailed my finger against her wetness, gently, up and down. Her cheeks were flushed and her breathing was ragged.

"Are you ready?" I whispered.

Without opening her eyes, Quinn nodded.

I kissed her lips again, and pressed against her, sliding between her lower lips. My fingers were drowning. I moaned into her, to let her know how hot I thought she was. Quinn was quivering, her whole body fidgety and jerky. I dipped my fingertip against her slick hole, teasing it. Quinn's hips shifted, her legs spreading almost imperceptibly in invitation.

I slid it inside slowly, and Quinn moaned, her body arching. It made my own insides clench and a flood of warmth erupt from me. I sucked in a breath through my nose, and pressed sprinkling kisses all over Quinn's face. Quinn couldn't concentrate on kissing, and neither could I. I pulled my finger out of her and when I slid it back, there was a second one with it. Quinn groaned and thrust her hips at me.

I began rocking my wrist into her, and I marveled at the texture and damp softness of it. It never ceased to amaze me how wonderful and exquisitely _right_ it felt. Kind of like the satisfying way it feels to click the last piece of a puzzle into place.

I felt Quinn's insides tighten against my fingers, and I licked at her neck, sucking along the base of it and nipping at her collarbone. I shifted the angle of my hand, and my thumb found her clit. I began to rub slow circles against it, in time with my thrusting. Quinn's body went rigid and she turned her face into her pillow to muffle the sounds she was making.

I maintained the pace for a moment, but then I wanted more. I wanted to see how fast and how high I could take her. I began to shove more frantically into her, my thumb flicking mercilessly. Quinn was making little sobbing noises, her hands clenching wildly. Her body froze suddenly, in one tight, rigid arc, and I could feel her sucking at my fingers, over and over and over. I moaned against her neck, pressing my face into it as her body shuddered and shook.

Quinn came down slowly, each muscle unwinding individually, it seemed like. I could feel the residual tremors inside of her, and I tested my fingers against them reflexively. Quinn jumped, and then jerked her head to look at me. I lifted my face and smiled a small smile at her, before I finally pulled out of her.

Her lips were red and puffy, and her cheeks were flushed. She had a glossy, faraway look in her eyes. I kissed her again, and then shifted, wiping my fingers against the outside of my comforter before I dragged her body close to mine and squeezed her.

Quinn grunted, lifting her palms to rub against her face again. "I can't believe that just happened."

I scowled, jerking my head up to glare down at her. "What, is that what you said to Puckerman after you had sex with him?"

Quinn scoffed. "Please, Santana, let's not talk about Puck right now, okay?" She lifted her mouth in a sneer. "It still kinda weirds me out that we _both_ have had sex with him."

I rolled my eyes.

"What I _meant_ was, it was unbelievable and amazing." Quinn said ironically, staring at the ceiling. I quirked a brow at her, cocking my head, and then a grin spread over my face.

"Honey, that's nothing. I have way more tricks up my sleeve."

Quinn pursed her lips, looking at my face. "I knew it was a mistake to stroke your ego."

I grinned at her. "I have something _else_ you can stroke."

Quinn laughed, scandalized, and slapped at me. "Santana, God." She chuckled. "You're just like a boy sometimes."

I raised my eyebrows at her, smirking. She sat up and slid out of the bed, and I did the same thing. "I thought your powers of deduction were better than that, Quinn. I hope by now you realize that there's _nothing_ mannish about me."

Quinn rolled her eyes at me. "Are you going to be like this all day?"

I laughed. "Probably."

**Xxxxx**

I looked into the square, masculine face of Brynn Thomas as we faced each other on the kickboxing mat. I hated that she was so slight and willowy, but she always, somehow, managed to send me to my ass during these sparring sessions. Mr. Wilson thought we would be good partners since we were both teenagers, but mostly, I wanted to crack her jaw and make her nose bleed because she was so apathetic but still somehow superior. It would have been easier to jump on her and smack her around, Lima Heights style, but I figured that would be counterproductive.

I stood with my hands in front of me, fingers loose, while Brynn stood in the same position. I tried to watch her body for physical keys that she was about to attack, but she was as unreadable as a stone. I was glancing down at her hips, waiting for the telltale twitch, and the next thing I knew her bare foot connected with my jaw and sent me sprawling on the ground.

"Fuck!" I yelled, my back and butt connecting with the blue mat. I imagined that if this had been some kind of cartoon, those little yellow birds would be floating around my head right now. I groaned, lifting my hand to rub at my jaw. It was already swelling.

Brynn just stood there. She'd given up on trying to help me up whenever she landed me flat on my back, because I never accepted it. With a determined grunt, I heaved myself upwards, shaking my limbs loose. I frowned at her. Her face remained impassive.

"Santana!" Mr. Wilson said, walking over towards us. "You should have blocked that hit. You need to turn your body, use your shoulders as a shield."

I shrugged. I'd already heard this before. I was terrible at kickboxing. I couldn't wait for this to be over.

Mr. Wilson came up beside me, and placed one of his palms against my hip, sliding it down my thigh firmly. "When you go in for a roundhouse, you have to put your momentum in through your hip, not your knee. You want to try to kick _through_ the target, not _at_ the target."

I rolled my eyes. I thought maybe he was just trying to cop a feel, because this touching was not necessary. "Also, we're working on body shots, not head shots," He threw towards Brynn.

My jaw throbbed and I glared at Brynn. I could swear the slightest smile curled her lips.

"All right, Santana, try it."

I glanced at him. "Try what?"

"The Muy Thai roundhouse."

I grunted and turned to face him. He was wearing a black t-shirt and black shorts, and he was shiny and covered in sweat. I bet I looked a hot mess, too. Brynn, somehow, didn't. She seemed unruffled and unexerted.

I tried to remember what he said, but mostly all I could think about was the way my face ached and how tired I was. His stance was more supple and practiced than Brynn's. I tried to imagine doing what he'd asked, heaving my hip upward and kicking with my shin through his chest. And then the second time I imagined doing it, I also just did it.

He blocked my kick easily with his forearm, but he smiled at me. "That was really good. Just try to kick _harder_ next time. This isn't going to do you any good if you're just swatting at somebody with your feet."

He had a hold of my foot still. I was standing there, awkwardly, balancing on one leg. I lifted an eyebrow at him.

He let it go and tossed me a smile before he went off to help another sparring couple.

Brynn came up beside me, folding her arms over her chest. "I believe he wants to mate with you."

I crinkled my face, giving her a perturbed look. "That's gross."

Brynn's eyebrows rose upwards speculatively. "He has good bone structure and pleasing body tone. He is, in fact, extremely attractive."

I looked at Brynn with an eyebrow raised. If _this_ girl thought Mr. Wilson was hot, then why didn't I? I watched him as he helped an older woman heave upwards with her knee into one of those rubbery guys used for target practice.

I bent down to pick up my towel and wrapped it around my neck. I shot Brynn a glance. "Yeah, well, if you find him so _pleasing,_ why don't you mate with him?" I made a face. It still felt like talking to a textbook sometimes whenever Brynn and I had conversations.

Brynn shrugged, using her own towel to mop at the nonexistent sweat on her face. "Clearly it would be socially unacceptable for me to pursue a physical relationship with a man twice my age."

I grunted, squinting. "Clearly. It would also be gross on so many levels."

Brynn cocked her head at me. "Santana, are you a homosexual?"

I nearly choked. "Say _what?_"

Brynn was studying me. "It just seems to me that you have an unnatural distaste for the idea of copulating with men. It has occurred to me that you might be attracted to women instead."

I rolled my eyes, and glanced around the room to make sure nobody was paying attention to us. "God, Brynn, you're such a little freak, you know that? I've '_copulated_' with plenty of men. What I have a natural distaste for, is thinking about _you_ copulating with _anybody,_ because you're less than human and more like a zombie."

Brynn frowned. "Well, I still get the impression that you and Quinn have a romance going on."

I groaned. This was unbelievable. First Sugar, now this freak show. "Look, it's none of your damn business, all right?"

We were walking towards the locker rooms slowly, because it was nearly time to go but Mr. Wilson hadn't dismissed the session yet. I was tired of getting my ass thrown against those thin, hard mats, and I thought if Brynn did it one more time, I'd probably tackle her and start punching. Really not productive.

"I don't see why you're so defensive about it," Brynn said. "I mean, homosexuality is a naturally occurring phenomenon seen throughout the animal kingdom."

I lifted my hand to scrub my palm over my face. Was this really happening? "I know that. But even if something like that _were_ happening," I shot her a warning glance, "It would still definitely not be your business, or anybody else's."

Brynn nodded. "I can see why you'd be apprehensive about it. The culture we live in can be unaccepting of things it considers outside the societal norm."

"You think?" I sneered. Brynn was pissing me off. I needed to get away from her, stat.

When I got to my little locker that housed my cell phone and water bottle, I pulled it out and checked the time. Quinn wouldn't be here for another five or ten minutes. I glanced at Brynn, who was collecting her things in a small gym bag.

"Hey, Brynn," I said, my tone even. "You know when Quinn asked you if you knew where the cemeteries were?"

Brynn nodded. "Yes."

"Okay, can you possibly tell me if there's one that has, like, a mausoleum?"

Brynn glanced down, thinking. "There is one. The mausoleum is very small though."

I shrugged. "It'll work."

Brynn was waiting for me, so I closed my locker and we began walking towards the door. "I don't understand cemeteries," Brynn admitted to me. I glanced down at her. She usually didn't try to extend conversations like this – usually she only answered questions with minimal words and stayed silent unless spoken to. She was unusually chatty today. "I mean, why do people worship the remains of the deceased?"

My eyebrows rose. "Um, it makes them feel better, I guess. People honor their family, _los sagrado__muertos_, you know."

"It's irrational." Brynn said firmly.

I shrugged. "Maybe it is. But it still makes you feel better to be able to visit them, sit some roses down, talk to them a while."

Brynn crinkled her face at me. "They no longer have functioning ears or brains, to process language. What possible good can it do to talk to a headstone?"

This chick was unbelievable. I gaped at her a minute, truly lost for words. "It's psychological, I guess," I said after a moment. "I mean, everyone _knows_ that thing you said, about not having brains. Everyone knows it's just a gravesite. But still, people think that the dead can hear them talk and it makes them feel better to know they still have a connection to that person."

Brynn shook her head. "It's entirely illogical."

I laughed a small laugh. "Don't tell Quinn you think that, or you'll lose some of your cool points with her." I smiled idly. "If you think so little of cemeteries, then why do you know where they are?"

Brynn shrugged. "Cemeteries are a wonderful environment for foxes, I've noticed. The graveyards around here are overrun with them. So I can find dead rabbits, cats, birds.."

I scrunched my face up. "Completely sick, Brynn."

"Quinn also has this unreasonable desire to speak to inanimate objects?" Brynn asked, looking up at me.

"Look, you know more about Quinn's weird obsession than I do, okay? I don't think she likes to talk to the headstones, because.. well that would be creepy, they're all strangers anyway." I shook my head. "I think it's like, she finds them peaceful or something."

Brynn and I were standing outside now, on the sidewalk, waiting for Quinn to show up. "It's absurd to want to speak to any gravestone, no matter if the remains belong to a stranger or not."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, Brynn, I get it. You think people are nutcases for wanting to talk to their dead friends and family."

Brynn looked like she was on the verge of saying something more, but Quinn rolled up. I gratefully slugged the door open and slid in, shutting it behind me.

"Aw, what happened to your face?" Quinn asked me, smiling gently. She reached her hand up to press against my cheek, and I flinched away. I glanced nervously in the rearview mirror at Brynn, who was watching us with her keen eye. I scowled.

"Nothing." I crossed my arms.

"It doesn't look like nothing," Quinn said, and she turned my head to face her, studying the mark on my jaw.

I jerked my head away from her. "Damnit, Quinn, just leave it alone."

Quinn frowned at me, then arched an eyebrow and put the car in reverse. "You're such a touchy loser."

I sat silently in the passenger seat, fuming. I didn't care that Brynn had knocked me on my ass – well, I sorta did, but I liked it when Quinn fawned all over me and treated me nice if I had a bruise. She was so sweet and cute that it made my insides ache from it. But if Brynn, as socially isolated and insane as she was, was beginning to think there was something between Quinn and me, then who else did?

I couldn't imagine what it would be like at Atherton if it got around that me and Quinn slept together. Bullies like Mildred Birmingham would be the least of it. The daughters of state senators and representatives attended Atherton, most of them conservative.

The thought of what would happen if it got back to my dad made my cheeks burn. He would go postal. He'd ship me off to Puerto Rico until I drowned myself in the ocean due to shame.

**Xxxxx**

I was halfway to Mr. Neely's office the next day when I remembered that stupid goddamn essay I was supposed to write. _Fucking shit!_ I had had a crazy week, and I had completely forgot. Not to mention that I was doing my own caseload of homework, but also pretty much doing Brittany's Spanish homework for her too, as well as giving her lessons in some basic Spanish phrases. I couldn't really believe that she was genuinely interested in learning a foreign language – let's face it, the girl isn't that great with English to begin with – but she was. She'd learned the colors and the days of the week in only two days' time, which was pretty amazing considering.

I scrubbed my palm over my forehead, pausing in my tracks. What exactly was he going to do to me for not writing the stupid essay? I hadn't even looked over the material, to be honest.

I sighed and decided I'd have to face the music. Grimly, I stomped into his office and sat down, not bothering to look at him.

"Santana, it's nice to see you again," Mr. Neely said.

I nodded at him. I decided I was going to have to be nice to him, well, as nice as I could be.

"Did anything happen to make you angry today?"

I shifted my arms across my chest. "Not really. I had a good day."

Mr. Neely seemed surprised that I was actually talking to him. He smiled at me, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Well that's a relief. Have you been spending time thinking about why you get angry or defensive?"

I had to suppress the urge to roll my eyes. "Not.. really. I mean, nothing much has happened to make me _angry_," I immediately flipped through all the instances in the last week that proved that sentence untrue. Basically every other interaction with Quinn or Brittany had made me angry, having to spend five hours locked in a car with Rachel Berry made me angry, the fact that my mother was cheating on my father made me angry, and Brynn Thomas assuming I was a flannel-wearing lesbo made me angry.

Mr. Neely tapped on his desk idly. "Still, even if an instance doesn't arise that triggers your rage, you should still be studying ways to diffuse it and handle it in a healthy manner."

I shrugged. "Yeah, I know. Like breathing exercises and junk."

He squinted his eyes at me. "Did you write that essay for me?"

I gulped. "Uh, no. I just got hella busy. I mean, I _did_ read the articles, and I even started it—" I hoped it sounded less like the lie than it was, "But I didn't get it done. I'll have it for you next week if you want."

Mr. Neely was nodding, steepling his fingers. "All right, Santana, I'll accept that." He shifted in his seat.

"Let's talk about the ways you deal with your anger, okay?"

I had to suppress a groan. Oh my god, this guy _wanted_ to piss me off, didn't he? "Whatever."

"There are three main ways people deal with their anger." Mr. Neely droned on. "Expressing, repressing, and calming."

I stared at him. Was he in love with listening to himself talk? It was almost worth it to get expelled so I didn't have to listen to him lecture me.

"The instinctive, natural way to express anger is to respond aggressively. Anger is a natural, adaptive response to threats; it inspires powerful, often aggressive, feelings and behaviors, which allow us to fight and to defend ourselves when we are attacked. A certain amount of anger, therefore, is necessary to our survival.

"It is not productive or even desirable to always react with physical violence, however," Mr. Neely threw a look at me. I tuned back in to what he was saying, nodding.

The rest of the hour went on like that. Mr. Neely harangued me about the evils of lashing out, and how there were more healthy ways of dealing with rage. Blah, blah blah, blah.

After the session was over, I gratefully left, trying not to let my irritation show. For some reason, people talking about anger just made me angry. I needed to watch that movie, _Anger Management_, with Jack Nicholson in it.

Quinn was in the dorm when I got there, tapping away at her laptop. She turned and offered me a brief smile. "I got you a cucumber Caesar wrap."

I nodded, shrugging my shoulders. I was annoyed, but at least she hadn't gotten me something terrible, like tacos or a cheeseburger.

I sat down and untied my shoes, rolling my stockings down. Quinn quirked an eyebrow at me. She hadn't turned back to her laptop yet.

"What's wrong?" She asked quietly. I threw her a glance.

"Oh, you know, Mr. Neely yammering on and on about healthy ways to deal with anger.." I rolled my eyes. "Please. He's such a limp noodle I bet he's never gotten angry about anything in his life."

Quinn laughed. "Be that as it may, you might could try listening to him. You are pretty prickly."

I scowled at her. "Yeah? Who asked you, Fabray?"

Quinn just smiled at me, which for reasons beyond my understanding, made me want to punch something. "A little bit of therapy would probably do you some good, you know."

I clenched my fists together and stood up, glaring. "What the heck is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Quinn shrugged, perhaps realizing that her words weren't coming across as casual or amusing to me. I could feel the pulse beat in my chest and a rush of blood filled my ears. I was starting to get really pissed, and even _that_ pissed me off. I didn't have a reason to be mad. I didn't want to be angry, but I couldn't help it, and Quinn sure as hell wasn't making things better.

"You're just carrying around a lot of baggage, is all," Quinn said quietly.

"What the hell would you know about it? At least I don't go through life acting like the perfect little ice queen." I sneered at her. "You're so repressed and bottled up, you're probably going to go all psycho one day and kill everyone in your house before offing yourself."

Quinn's eyebrows shot up. "Wow, Santana, way to deflect." Her tone was carefully neutral.

"See, _that_. That's what I'm talking about." I gestured at her. "Instead of just getting mad, like I know you want to, you ignore it."

Quinn stared at me. "If you don't recall, I spent a lot of time _angry_ last year. I remember what it feels like to be pissed off at everyone, at the whole world, at my entire life. I hated that feeling."

I watched her as she said it, and something about her words helped to calm me down. I studied her face and then let out a sigh, sitting down on my bed. "God, we're a nice pair, aren't we?" My tone was full of irony. "Me, the crazy bitch who goes all Mike Tyson on everyone, and you, quietly insane, all Unibomber style."

Quinn smiled softly at that, and she stood up and walked towards me. She laid her palm gently against my face, which was puffy and swollen and ached when I talked. "We fit together," She said simply.

I watched her while she watched me, a sense of growing panic forming in my gut. My breathing wanted to go all haywire and my heart was skittering in my chest. The way Quinn was looking at me, the way she was touching my cheek.. it freaked me out.

I laughed lamely, darting my eyes around the room. "Let me know if you want to crash any airplanes any time soon. We'd be a perfect pair of terrorists."

Quinn smiled at me knowingly, and she rubbed the pad of her thumb across my lips before she walked back to her computer desk and sat down. I let out a huge breath that I hadn't even known I'd been holding.

**A/N:** Okay, guys.. seriously.. I need songs for the Vox to sing. Pleeeeease?


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N:** Thanks for all the suggestions. :) I'm going to use a few, and you'll see which ones eventually.

Also.. can I say, BRITTANA SEX TAPE. That is all.

Look what I learned how to do! vvv

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 22<strong>

Okay, I'm going to admit it. Quinn's obsession with creepy shit is totally weird and unnerving, but it's worth it to sit through just to see the ecstatic look on her face.

"Santana, this is _awesome,_" Quinn told me with a giant grin. It made me grin back at her a little self-effacingly. I felt a warm flush creep over my body to know that I had done something right for once.

Seeing how there's absolutely nothing to do in this neck of the woods, for Halloween, they throw up all these hay rides and mazes and even an obstacle course where you get chased by men with hockey masks and chainsaws. I had bought Quinn and I tickets to one of the events, called the Hex House, even though I knew I'd probably need a Xanax and a shot of vodka at the end of it. I was saving that surprise for later, though.

We were currently snuggled together in the back of a buggy, a man in ripped and torn clothes sitting in the front, directing the giant black horse along a course that dropped down fake skeletons and spider webs at you. I only jumped about five times and squealed, snuggling into her, hiding my face against her shoulder. She laughed at me and patted the back of my head soothingly.

"Yeah well, you're welcome, Blondie," I told her with my lips against her shoulder. The buggy jerked and rattled along the dirt road, and the sky was turning a velvety black.

"Best Halloween ever," Quinn told me. I was glad.

"I'd still rather be getting drunk at somebody's house in a skimpy nurse outfit." I told her, peeking upwards. So far, nothing else had jumped out at us, but I was still wary.

Quinn chuckled. "That's typical of you."

I glowered. Until now, it had been typical of Quinn, too – except the getting drunk and skimpy outfits part. Quinn always came to the parties, though.

When the ride ended, Quinn jumped down and then held a hand out to me. I grasped it and slid out of the buggy gratefully, using my palms to dust off my jeans. I was wearing dark skinny jeans with strategic rips in them, a tight purple t-shirt with a black vest over it. It squeezed and hugged my midsection tightly, displaying my boobs perfectly. I was a little proud of the way my cleavage threatened to burst out of the v-neck hem. I wore my hair down and loose in dark curls, and had taken careful consideration with my makeup.

I didn't tell Quinn, but I wanted to do something special for her. It was working out pretty great – I mean, her face was practically glowing with sheer joy. I didn't understand why she got her kicks from dead things and spooky shit, but whatever, if it floats your boat. She was wearing a long-sleeved peasant top with snug jeans and brown boots, and she'd finally dyed her hair back blonde. She grabbed my hand and tugged me towards a maze made out of huge hay walls.

The man taking tickets in front of it was dressed like a vampire, and I eyed him warily. I didn't trust adults who dressed up on Halloween, even if it was for a job like this one. They just seemed weird.

"Haven't you ever seen any of those movies about Jason or Mike Myers?" I asked Quinn as she pulled me into the maze. "They all begin like this. Two teenage girls, alone, walking through some creepy maze.." I blanched when I heard someone ahead of us scream.

Quinn smirked at me. "Santana, this isn't even that scary. I mean, it's all fake blood and plastic spiders." As if to prove her point, she reached out and picked up a rubbery tarantula. I still shuddered.

"Well, do you want to go to a haunted house later?" I asked her casually.

Quinn looked at me. "Is it really haunted?"

I shrugged, trying to hide my excitement. I wanted to scare Quinn, and wondered if the prospect of going to the Hex House would do it for her – if I didn't warn her that it was a setup. "Yeah, I heard some of the other kids talking about it.. like it's supposed to be really haunted."

Quinn was looking at me like I had the knowledge of how to live forever or something, and it kinda weirded me out. "All right, sheesh," I said, rounding a corner and biting back a yelp at the image of a mummy propped up in the corner. My heart was beating rapidly in my ribcage. "God. We can go."

Quinn grinned at me and squeezed my hand in hers. "Look, up there! Let's go play with the brains."

I groaned but let her pull me forward.

* * *

><p>All right, so. That Hex House thing? Not a good idea. It totally backfired. Not only had Quinn not been impressed with my 'it's just got a lot of traffic today' excuse for all the cars surrounding it, but she didn't buy the fact that it was haunted. Also, as soon as we were turned loose inside of it, I wanted to shit myself.<p>

See, it was a giant, three-story house with boarded up windows and creepy, creaky floorboards. The place had been turned into a ruin, with layers of dust on the furniture and broken mirrors littering the walls. Quinn had wandered away from me to examine some of the antiques, and I was staring around cautiously, hoping that nothing scary was going to pop out at me, when – _bam_! A closet door swung open and I didn't even have time to see what was inside of it before I bolted, running through the living room, into the kitchen – which was decorated to look like the scene of a murder, with three dead bodies on the floor and blood spattered _everywhere –_ and out the back door, back outside. My heart was pounding in my throat and a tense sweat had broken out all over my body. I turned around and stared at the open kitchen door, debating on going back inside to find Quinn, when a shriek coming from the cornfield out back had me turning to stare, aghast, at a figure wielding an axe who lumbered towards me.

"Oh my fucking god," I breathed, and ran towards my parked car. I slammed the door open and locked myself inside, confined with only the sounds of my own ragged breathing and the overwhelmingly lightheaded feeling I had that made me feel like I was on the verge of a panic attack.

I didn't know how much time had passed before I heard someone rapping on my car window, but I jumped, repressing a scream. Quinn's face, set in a mask of amusement, looked down at me. I slowly rolled down the window and just squinted at her.

"Santana, you wasted your money on this," She told me flatly. "I mean, you spent like what, five minutes in there?"

I didn't care. I used my palm to rub at my chest, the place directly above my heart, because it hurt from it beating so furiously against my ribcage. "Yeah well. Anything for you, Blondie." I tried to sound casual, but it came out breathy and winded, because I still hadn't calmed down.

Quinn's face softened, and she threw me a small smile, before she rounded the car and climbed into the passenger seat. "I enjoyed it, the bit of it I saw."

I glowered up at the giant house, darkly silhouetted against the night sky. "Why don't you go back inside and look at everything?"

Quinn stifled a small laugh. "I mean, I would," I turned to look at her, narrowing my eyes. "But you might get scared out here in the car all by yourself.."

I scowled at her. "Don't make fun of me, Quinn." I did feel silly. I mean, these kinds of things are _totally lame._ They shouldn't scare me.

"It's just.." Quinn was chuckling now. "I mean, you're so _tough,_" She was chewing on the corners of her mouth, trying to hold back the laughter. "You have _razorblades in your hair."_ She broke down in gales of laughter, and I just glared at her.

"Quinn, those are psychopathic people with axes and chainsaws," I said to her, seriously. "How am I supposed to stand up against _them?_"

Quinn sucked in air, trying to catch her breath, though her face had turned red. "They're not going to actually hurt you," She choked out.

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever, Quinn." I turned the key in the ignition, my car rumbling to life. Flicking on the headlights, I screamed at the figure standing directly in front of my car. It was an old man in overalls, and he looked like his face had been chopped in half, and blood and brains soaked his clothes.

Quinn broke down laughing again.

* * *

><p>"Where are we going <em>now?"<em> Quinn asked beside me. It had been fun to drive her around all night, to see her face light up every time she realized what the next destination was. I was inexplicably happy that she let me do this for her, and was reacting with such genuine warmth. Even though I felt weak and shaky from all the times I'd screamed and my head kind of hurt from the constant adrenaline and fear hormones, but, you know. It was worth it.

We were driving along a secluded back road, and even though I should have been totally creeped out, I wasn't, because the next place we were going was going to be Quinn's favorite. Before long, we turned down a narrow side street, passed a winding iron gate.

"A graveyard?" Quinn looked at me curiously. I bit back a smile and just shrugged.

Luckily for us, this one was really small and didn't have a groundskeeper that stayed on overnight. It was worn out, lots of the headstones crumbling and overgrown with weeds. I drove along the bumpy, winding road, pulling up beside a small building composed of granite.

Quinn's eyes were huge as we got out of the car. "Can we even _be here_ right now?"

I shrugged. "Live a little dangerously, Q," I smirked. I was glad to be the one with the upper hand again. I walked over towards the rusty door of the mausoleum and jiggled the handle. I'd rigged it so that it would open without me having to kick it in.

Quinn came up beside me and glanced over my shoulder, frowning into the dark building. I just smiled at her, and used my cell phone as a flashlight, tiptoeing inside.

Quickly, I fished a lighter out of my jeans pockets, and began lighting the candles I'd placed all over. It smelled cold and dusty inside, but not gross, like you'd think a place where they kept dead people would. Eventually, the candles cast a flickering light over the place, revealing the tombstones and sleek marble walls.

"Oh my god, Santana," Quinn gasped. I turned to look at her, but she wasn't staring at the headstones or the carvings of the building, she was looking down at the pile of blankets I'd left there earlier.

I shrugged, walking across the room to light the candles on the other side.

"This is really.. sweet." Quinn said uneasily, stepping inside and pulling the door closed behind her. "Like a morbid Valentine's day."

I smiled at her. "Yeah, for real." I walked to the other side of the room and began lighting the candles there as well.

I pulled out the blankets and made a pallet, and then fished around behind one of the carvings and pulled out a bottle of wine. "See? I went all out." I flashed her a grin.

Quinn seemed nervous. She sat down, folding her legs beneath her, and then just looked at me as I popped the cork on the wine. "Why are you doing this?" Her voice was bland and pointed.

It made my face heat up, and it made it hard to look at her. "Just, you know. Whatever." I shrugged, trying to fend off the soft way her eyes looked at me and the questions on her face.

Quinn pressed her lips together and took the bottle from me, soundlessly, tipping it back to drink out of the neck. After a swig, she passed it back to me, and I took a gulp. We sat there in silence for a while, and the tension was mounting quickly.

Before I lost my nerve, I shifted, leaning forward to press a kiss against her mouth. I felt the familiar tug of longing slide down my body the second our lips connected, and it made my heart beat loudly in my chest. Her lips tasted like wine at first, but after a moment the flavor faded into one that was just essentially Quinn. A little sound vibrated in the back of her throat, tickling our mouths and lips, and it made me press harder into her, more desperately. I used my fingers to cradle her neck, massaging the skin there.

I felt my skin heat up by degrees, the longer we kissed. It was hard to breathe but I didn't want to break away, and by the time we did, we both were gasping. Quinn's eyes were heavy and glossy in the candlelight, her lips puffy and bruised. I leaned forward to press firm, full kisses against her face, on her cheekbones and her jaw, beneath her ear, on her eyelids. Quinn shivered.

Slowly, almost as if we were underwater, I slid my hand underneath her shirt, and then drew it upwards. I kept my eyes glued to Quinn's, trying to read the emotion that welled up there. I couldn't. At least, I didn't allow myself to. Quinn didn't struggle with me as I slid her shirt off, she just watched me patiently. My hands shook slightly when I pressed my palms against her ribs, using my thumbs and fingers to caress her.

We still didn't break eye contact. It should have been unnerving, but it just made a thick, heavy emotion swell in my chest and make me feel like I was drowning. Fumbling slightly, I leaned towards her and around her to unsnap her bra. Quinn pressed forward and nuzzled her lips against the crook of my neck, igniting white hot heat that ran up and down my body. My stomach clenched, and I had to swallow.

"Lay down," I whispered to her, drawing back and discarding her bra. I wanted to look at her forever, the way the golden light played against her skin, making her seem like a figment from a dream. Quinn shook her head, slightly, and without saying anything began unbuttoning my vest.

I let her undress me, my eyes flickering down to watch the way her fingers moved around the buttons. My gaze wandered back up to her face, watching, as she freed me from the vest and slid it down my shoulders. She glanced at me, once, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, before she pulled the thin t-shirt up.

I reached around and undid my own bra, sliding it down and then tossing it aside. I could feel Quinn's eyes soaking me up, looking me up and down. Swallowing, I stood up, unzipping my jeans and drawing them downwards as well. Quinn's eyes widened briefly at the sight and I smirked, feeling a little bit more confident. I kicked my jeans aside and then crawled forward to straddle Quinn, who was still sitting on her knees.

Reflexively, she put wrapped an arm around the small of my back, the other drifting upwards to graze the side of my jaw and tangle in my hair. I dove into kissing her, sucking on her lips and tongue, the sharp, tangy scent of the candles burning my nose and lungs. My nails scratched up and down her bare back, gently, because I was trying to keep my attention away from myself. I didn't want to get lost in the way Quinn was rubbing her hand over my ass, or the way her tongue was slipping and sliding against mine. I had to focus. That was really hard to do, especially because I could feel my underwear sticking against me _already,_ and we hadn't even done anything other than kiss for a few minutes.

But it was something else, too. It was the way that, when I pulled back, I looked down at her eyes and they were full of me. Her pupils were huge and I felt like I could drown in them. I ducked my head to begin kissing along the satiny curve of her neck, and Quinn angled her head, obliging. When she let out a throaty moan, something inside me coiled, hot with tension and longing.

Quinn was squirming beneath me, and my hands roamed down her bare arms, trailing up and down with light touches. I rubbed my mouth against her throat, and she let her head fall backwards, so it was only with a gentle push and twist that I had her scooting back to lay flat, with me on top of her.

Quinn's eyes were slammed closed now, and so I just lifted myself up and looked down between us, at her heaving chest, the way her breathing caused her breasts to push softly against mine, the way her fingers wrenched around the comforter we were laying on. I continued to kiss her, but softly now, on the shoulder and then along the top of her breast, sucking the soft flesh into my mouth before I finally lowered my lips to tease over a nipple.

Quinn arched, gasping, and deftly, I rose myself off her and unsnapped her jeans. I was anticipating her trying to stop me at this point, like she always did, but she surprised me by wriggling around and kicking off her boots impatiently. I leaned backwards and yanked her jeans down, and she helped me by finally jerking her legs free.

Quinn was watching me again, and I tried not to make her feel too uncomfortable by staring at her, but _whoa._ It had been a while since I'd seen her naked, like this, with only the thin swatch of cotton separating us from total nudity. And I've never really_ looked_ at Quinn before, not really, and I was suddenly regretful that I hadn't taken every opportunity to see her. I was grateful she was letting me do so now.

Sliding back upwards, I got delicious little chills up and down my body from the friction of her skin against mine, and I could tell by the way Quinn was whimpering and moving beneath me that she felt them, too.

I kissed her, once, on the lips, before I began trailing my mouth down her neck and along her chest, licking in the deep crevice between her breasts and then sliding my tongue underneath them. I was drunk on the smell and taste of Quinn, the way her body was shaking and the tiny, almost strangled sounds she was making. I kissed gradually lower, over her quivering belly and then along the hem of her underwear.

My whole body felt hot and light, and when I snuck my fingers up to loop around the elastic ban, I was prepared for Quinn's protest. Instead of allowing her to curl forward and stop me, however, I launched myself upwards and pressed her down with my body, kissing her slowly and thoroughly. My hands stayed wrapped around her panties, however, and with our mouths pressed together I muttered: "Please, Quinn."

She tensed beneath me, and even though I wasn't looking at her I knew her eyes were squeezed together tightly. I felt her heart hammering against my chest and I could feel her pulse all over her body. I just breathed, waiting, curling my fingers.

Finally, and almost as if in a dream, Quinn nodded. I pressed a hard kiss against her mouth, before breaking the contact and then darting back down her body. I nudged Quinn's legs apart with my knee, and then slid her underwear off.

Quinn's head had fallen to the side, and she pressed the soft skin of her forearm against her eyes, as if she could shield herself from me. It made my heart melt in my chest and a bubble of tenderness well up inside of me. "You're so beautiful," I whispered, and I watched her throat tighten and click in a swallow.

I used my hands at first, massaging against the muscles that quaked and shivered on her inner thighs. My thumbs and fingers drew lazy circles, kneading, and by degrees I felt her slowly relax, though her body was heaving with tense, short breaths. She still hid behind her arm, and the sight of her stretched out in front of me, fully exposed, made something inside of me crack and twist.

Slowly, gently, I lowered myself between her legs, and used my mouth to kiss a hot trail up one of her thighs. Quinn let out a little mewling sound, and her legs fell even further apart, this time in instinctive invitation. Her lips moist and inviting, and I pressed a kiss against them, testing their flavor. It was salty and sweet and it made me moan against her.

Quinn gasped, her body going suddenly rigid, when my tongue darted out and began stroking tensely against her clit. She bucked, and I slid my arms out beneath each of her legs, anchoring her hips to the ground. I looked upwards, trying to catch a glimpse of her face, but her body was contorted and all I saw was the dip of her belly and the tight definition of her skin against her ribs.

I lowered my mouth, licking around Quinn's wet folds, darting my tongue inside and then stroking upwards firmly. Quinn was going wild, her hips moving frantically, the sound of her breaths exploding and reverberating against the stone walls.

I shifted, and then rubbed my fingers through her softness, adjusting so that my mouth closed over her clit, lips wrapping around it, sucking gently. Quinn's thighs were twitching and shaking now, and her sounds were muffled against her own hands. I pushed inside of her with two fingers, and flicked my tongue over her clit.

Quinn began rocking, jerking her hips, and I continued with that same rhythm with my heart beating in my ears and my senses full of Quinn, feeling her insides quake and suck at my fingers urgently. I felt like my chest was going to explode because my heart was galloping and was so swollen and full.

At the last second, when I could tell that she was _just there,_ I slid up and over her, wiping her fluid from my chin on my arm as the other one pumped into her steadily, and I snugged my body close to hers, using my arm to cradle her head and upper body against me. I felt her insides quake and shudder, and Quinn moaned loudly, opening her mouth and digging her teeth into the flesh of my shoulder. I groaned, turning my face into her, feeling her twitch and quiver against me.

Quinn was supple and relaxed against me, and I could swear I could hear her heart beating in the silence. I shifted, drawing my fingers out of her, and wrapped my other arm around her, pulling her tightly to me. I felt her breaths against the hot skin of my neck and shoulder, and a small little sound escaped her lips.

I glanced down and noticed that Quinn's eyes were smashed closed, but that the tiniest beads of moisture were crawling down her cheeks. Gently, I laid her against the blanket again, and began kissing at the corner of her eye, catching the tears on my lips before they could fall.

"Santana," Quinn said, and her voice was broken and thick. It made my heart swell and turn over in my chest slowly. "I.. I lo—"

I stopped her, pressing my mouth against hers, because now my blood was pounding in my head and all I could think about was the copper taste of panic in the back of my throat and how I had to swallow several times to make it go away. I kissed Quinn firmly, and then drew away from her, opening my eyes. Hers were still closed tightly, so I kissed her eyelids again, butterfly soft. I swallowed again, and my voice whispered out hoarsely, "I know."

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><p><strong>AN:** That scene was so heavy & hard for me to write.. I hope you guys liked it.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N:** Thanks for everyone's kind reviews and patience. These chapters are taking longer for me to finish because I'm spending a lot of time thinking things through and trying to stay true to character, and not disappoint anybody.

Oh and the songs they sing are here**: .com/watch?v=Pu8KFlfzk3Y&ob=av2e**

**.com/watch?v=mdIIw2mSkTg**

Put **www** dot **youtube** in front of those links.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 23<strong>

I smiled down at Quinn with a deviant smirk. She was pinned beneath me and I had both of her hands clutched together tightly in mine. It left us both a little helpless, but I still felt triumphant because I was on top of her and she was looking pretty ticked off about it.

"Santana, let me go," Quinn said slowly. It was hard to take her seriously with her hair spread out around her all crazy like, and I could tell for a fact that she was bothered by the warm pressure of my crotch against her, because her face was slowly blushing.

"Nope, not a chance," I gave her a little grin before I leaned down, trapping our tangled hands between us, and ran my lips over the side of her face.

We were on the floor of our dorm room, with books and notepads and pens scattered everywhere. I had already changed into my pajamas, which consisted of a white wife beater and some loose shorts, but Quinn was still partially dressed in her Atherton uniform – one of those crisp white button-ups and the plaid white and purple skirts. The look drove me crazy, which was her _first _mistake. The second one was acting all prude and stuck-up, something she's entirely too good at, but that creates in me a combination of desires to punch her and kiss her face off.

"Look, I have got to study," Quinn said in an even tone, though I could tell by the way her pulse hammered against my mouth that she was just faking it. My fingers clutched against her hands, however, in case she was trying to feign relaxation and then pull some kind of sneak attack on me. I ran my teeth against the taut skin of her neck, biting down gently, and I smirked into her when I felt her hips roll against me.

"I can quiz you," I muttered, and then sucked on her ear.

"Ah, oh my god," Quinn's voice was breathy and she gasped, and I felt a thrill of victory run through me.

She let me kiss and tease her neck for a while and didn't complain, but when it came time to move further south she suddenly sat up, which made me sprawl backwards unceremoniously.

I glared at her. "All right, Quinn, and for that—"

Quinn was eyeing me warily and she held her hands up in front of her to stop me. "Santana, I've already had to buy three new shirts because of you." She huffed, then rolled one of the sleeves up since it had lost its cuff shape. She smoothed a palm down her hair and in a second went from looking completely ruffled and disheveled to being sophisticated and put together. It made my mouth water.

"It's not my fault those shirts are a bitch to unbutton." I was glancing at the little dip in the material, where the first button was fixed directly above Quinn's bust. It made me feel slightly guilty to know that, just yesterday, I had torn one off of her because I didn't have the patience to unbutton them.

"Yeah, well, my dad isn't going to understand these weekly shirt charges to his credit card." Quinn rolled her eyes. She still looked tense and ready, as if she expected me to ignore her warning and just tackle her back to the ground.

I had half a mind to do it. "Okay, so take the shirt off, Goldilocks," I growled.

Quinn threw me an impatient look. "Santana. Give me an hour to study. Seriously, you're like an annoying oversexed boyfriend."

I huffed, and then launched myself up onto my feet. Quinn watched me with a paranoid look until I padded over to my bed and flopped down on it with a dramatic sigh.

She laughed, slightly, and then scooted over to rest her back against my bedframe. It offered me a good view down her shirt from where I was laying, and I could reach my hand out and play with her hair or rub the back of her neck if I wanted.

"Studying is a huge waste of time." I had already told Quinn that pretty much countless times, but she still kept studying. I felt like, with repetition, one day she'd get the picture and quit staring at textbooks for no reason.

"I already told you that I have a big test in algebra.. and I can't memorize equations like you do." Quinn's voice was slightly clipped, but it was just because she had picked up the textbook and was looking at it now.

I fiddled with my phone because I was bored, and I decided to give Quinn the hour that she asked for. It kinda hurt my pride every time Quinn compared me to a boy, which I think she understood and so she did it on purpose. It made me wonder if Quinn imagined she was _manipulating_ me in some way. That line of thought was a little perturbing, though, because I didn't want to focus on it and what Quinn thought of me.

"Are you going to try out for a solo for show choir?" I asked her, suddenly.

Quinn glanced up and threw me a look from the side of her face. "Yeah. Aren't you?"

I shrugged. "Without having to compete with that gay garden gnome, Rachel Berry, I figure I probably have a shot at it." Our group was pretty good, but none of the girls were pretentious and attention starved like Rachel. The fact that it was an all-girl's group actually helped and hurt in a few different ways, because that meant there was more competition for certain vocal ranges but that most likely the set wouldn't focus on songs Quinn couldn't rightly sing.

"What song are you going to sing?" I asked her after a few moments.

Quinn's face shifted and I recognized that guarded look she put into place whenever she didn't want me to know what she was thinking or feeling. That had my interest perking up. I shifted, then laid my palm against the back of her neck.

"It's a surprise." Quinn said finally.

My eyebrows shot up. "What? For who?"

Quinn shrugged, her eyes planted firmly on her text book. "For you."

I glanced around the room, a little uneasy. "I was going to do a Winehouse number." I felt uncomfortable now. "Quinn, this isn't like.. this isn't like something Berry would do back at the glee club, is it?" I felt a little panicky. "I mean, we haven't turned into _those people—"_

Quinn huffed, her head snapping upwards, her eyes glaring straight ahead. "What, those people who refuse to talk to one another about their feelings, so they sing them instead?" Quinn almost sneered, and it made my heart feel heavy. "I don't know, Santana, have we turned into those people?"

She wasn't looking at me which made me feel ten times worse, but in a way I was grateful. I didn't want Quinn's eyes, hot and cold at the same time, staring at me. I felt a ball of panic forming in my stomach and I had to take a deep breath. I let my palm fall away from the back of her neck. "I guess not.. I mean.. Quinn, you _know_ I can't –"

"I know." Quinn slammed her textbook closed and glared down at it, her face tensing slightly.

"Quinn, you can't sing me a song at the Vox." I said simply. The whole idea made me feel light and tingly and like I was going to hyperventilate. "People will.. I mean.. they'll know."

Quinn sighed, and then shifted and looked at me. "Just because I sing a song at the Vox, doesn't mean anyone will know it's to you. And nobody knows _anything,_ Santana."

I frowned at her. "Sugar does. I think even Brynn kind of knows." This was the first time I'd ever told Quinn that, and I could tell she was shocked.

"Why? They're perverts. All we do is act like really close friends, why do they assume we're.. more than that?" Quinn sounded a little distracted now.

I watched her face, trying to figure out if she understood what she'd just said. _We __**aren't**__ more than that_, I wanted to say. It was on the tip of my tongue. I even inhaled a breath, meaning to let it out on that sentence, when something stopped me. Something about the way she was facing me but looking through me, or something about the way my heart thudded thickly in my chest. The thought died before I could ever voice it.

I wanted to start a conversation with Quinn about this. I wanted to make some things clear. Because ever since last weekend, when we made love in that mausoleum, Quinn had been acting strange. Not really strange.. just.. I don't know. She was a lot more affectionate. She didn't shoo me away from trying to slide my hand up her thigh at the lunch table, or stop me from playing with her hair during Vox rehearsals. She even smiled more, which was nice. But I got that sick, panicky feeling I always get when I try to think about how Quinn feels or about how I feel, whenever I remembered that last moment.. how she almost said it. And how I told her that I know.

I know Quinn loves me. I mean, she's probably loved me since we were fourteen and I helped her buy her first push-up bra. Who wouldn't love me after that? I saved her from wearing granny bras with no underwire and her boobs melting off her chest before she fully achieved puberty. That was a Good Samaritan act that even I am benefitting from now, to this day. So yeah, Quinn loves me. But I got the feeling.. the inkling.. well, I _know_ that Quinn means love, capital L, emphasis on '_ove.' _ It scared me, I think.

No, no 'I think' about it. It terrified me. Quinn can't _be in love with me,_ I was already partially dealing with that from Brittany – who even though she is a little clueless and ditzy and air-headed, has been trying to tell me the same thing for at least a year now – and suddenly I felt like a complete idiot to even be wrapped up in this giant mess. I should never have taken Quinn up on that offer. I should have not just shot her down, but _slammed_ her down, earth to Quinn, you are not a lesbian, let's not do this.

I mean, how does Quinn feel about that shit _now?_ About her utter not-lesbianness? Can two girls who refuse to acknowledge themselves as lesbians be in love with each other? It was too complicated to think about. It was a question I'd had about Brittany this time last year that I just ignored, pushed away, and covered up.

But here it was again, and the feeling was way more intense and nagging and hard for me to dismiss. I told myself it was because I didn't have Puckerman around to help keep my mind out of the vagina, but mostly I know I'm just kidding myself. I have special feelings for Quinn, which both mimic and parallel to how I feel for Brittany, but that are different, too. I love Brittany.. she's like my other self. I love Quinn, and she helps me feel like I'm a better version of myself.  
>See? All this stuff is way too heavy. I can't barely hold these thoughts in my head without circling and dodging that main issue that lays in the center of it, bright as day and glaring in rainbow neon: GAY LADY. LESBIAN. FLANNEL EXTRAORDINAIRE.<p>

I mean, seriously? I am not a lesbian. I am not a lesbian. I am not..

But then I stare at Quinn and just looking at her makes me all fidgety and restless with desire, and I know I'm just fighting with myself over something that nothing, no force on heaven or earth, will be able to change.

It has to _mean something_ that out of all the people I've slept with – and there have been many – that the only two I ever have had feelings for, real feelings, huge-crush-fall-in-love-giddy feelings, have been girls. I mean, I guess it's kind of something I might have inevitably come to terms with, but I really doubt it. Without Quinn, I might have coasted along that comfortable zone of being able to tell myself I was just _bi-curious,_ or that Britt was pretty much just an _experiment,_ or that we both just had chemistry and a lot of free time.. or that we were just best friends who became something more, which is both socially acceptable and a fact of life that I was willing to accept.

Quinn's almost confession last weekend had made me take a good, long look in the mirror at myself. It was other things, too, like my lack of sexual tension with the too-grabby kickboxing teacher. The way anytime Puckerman laughed I wanted to curb check him. The way I pretty much had to be drunk to give in to have sex with any guy at any time. And how I never, ever enjoyed it the way I enjoyed wrapping myself up in Quinn and getting lost in her.

So, I was dealing with that. It was an ephemeral thought dancing around inside my head and that I knew one day I'd have to start talking about. But with Quinn? And when?

She was looking at me expectantly, almost as if she knew the ideas circling my head and wanted to give me time to find the words.

"It's because Sugar is a nosy bitch and Brynn thinks she knows everything." I shrugged, shifted, and looked up at the ceiling.

The moment passed between us, like it often does. Quinn kept her eyes glued to my face for a second more, as if trying to call me back, trying to reverse my split second decision to deflect and avoid. I ignore it, and then she turned and set her notebook down.

"Well, all I have to say about it is.." Quinn said slowly and stood up. She was unbuttoning her white shirt and that definitely caught my attention. She watched me whip my head towards her and a devilish glint filled her eye. "Pay attention to the song I sing tomorrow. I mean it."

I nodded, but I was distracted by the sight of her slowly slipping her shirt off.

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><p>We were in the auditorium again, and I had to sit through almost two hours straight of every other girl's mediocre crooning. Even though I had <em>tried<em>, really hard, to explain to Sugar that she just shouldn't attempt a solo, she did. And Miss Holiday, for whatever reason, made us sit through all four excruciating minutes of it with a smile fixed on her face.

"Well, Sugar, that was just awesome," She said in her tone that was caught between upbeat and sarcastic.

"I know." Sugar said and then hopped down.

"All right, up next is.. Santana Lopez."

I smiled, jolting myself upwards and walking towards the stage. Part of me was so, _so_ glad I would be able to sing before Quinn, mostly because.. well I had an idea of what she was going to try to do, and hopefully I could divert her away from some sort of catastrophe.

I wasn't ready for things to change between Quinn and I. It made me nervous that she wanted to make grand gestures like singing a song to me, here, in order to get a message across.

"I'm going to be singing a Tina Turner song," I said into the microphone.

I wasn't anxious. I almost never have stage fright anymore, thanks to the year we had previously, preforming in New Directions. And all these people had become familiar to me, like friends.

I listened as the music from the speakers around us swelled, grabbed the mic, and closed my eyes.

_"__You must understand, that the touch of your hand, makes my pulse react.. that it's only the thrill, of boy meeting girl, opposites attract. It's physical, only logical.. You must try to ignore, that it means more than that."_ I slowly opened my eyes and looked into the room, directly at Quinn.

The music increased, and I belted out the famous chorus:

"_Ooooh, what's love got to do, got to do with it?  
>What's love, but a secondhand emotion?<br>What's love, got to do, got to do with it?  
>Who needs a heart, when a heart can be broken?"<em>

I stared at Quinn as I sang. I knew that she understood what I was saying. I couldn't read the emotion on her face, because of the way the light was shining on me. I didn't have a choice but to finish the song.

"_It may seem to you, that I'm acting confused  
>When you're close to me.<br>If I tend to look dazed, I've read it someplace  
>I've got cause to be.<em>

There's a name for it - there's a phrase that fits,  
>But whatever the reason.. You do it for me."<p>

I shifted back into the chorus, closing my eyes and ignoring the room. I let the passion fill me, and finally, I wound down into the bridge, and when I looked up, Quinn wasn't sitting there anymore.

"_I've been taking on a new direction  
>But I have to say<br>I've been thinking about my own protection  
>It scares me to feel this way.."<em>

I hated that she didn't get to hear this part of it. I really did mean it. I wanted her to hear me say the words, that it scared me to feel this way.

Finally, after repeating the chorus, the music stopped. I felt empty and drained, which was new for me. I usually felt charged and satisfied after I performed.

"That was excellent, Santana. Thank you." Miss Holiday said. I blinked, once, remembering that there were other people in the room rather than Quinn and I.

I nodded slowly, and then shuffled towards the side of the stage. I didn't have a reason to go back and sit in the audience, since Quinn wasn't there anymore.

"All right, Miss Fabray is next."

I paused by the curtains, waiting to see if Quinn would come and try for her solo.

I watched her emerge from somewhere in the back where it was dark. I studied her face as she approached the stage, trying to discern the emotions there. But Quinn kept her face an icy mask, which she was really too good at.

I wanted to reach out to her and hug her, but she didn't even look at me. Instead, she waited for the music to start without introducing her song. I winced a little bit when I recognized the banjo-y sounds issuing from the speakers. Really, Quinn? A country song?

I couldn't really think after she opened her mouth and started singing, though.

"_Would you walk to the edge of the ocean, just to fill my jar with sand?  
>Just in case I get the notion, to let it run through my hand..<br>Let it run through my hand_

Well, I don't want the whole world  
>The sun, the moon, and all their light<br>I just want to be the only girl  
>You love all your life<br>You love all your life.."

Something inside of me wound up tightly as she sang. Her gaze was fixed to the back of the auditorium, but I could tell Quinn was singing from the depths of her. I hadn't recognized that kind of passion in her since she sang _It's A Man's World_ while she was pregnant. It made a lump form in my chest directly above my heart.

"_Lately I've been writing desperate love songs  
>Mostly I sing them to the walls,<br>You could be the center piece of, my obsession  
>If you would notice me, at all<br>Ohh yeah.."_

Quinn turned, and looked straight at me as she ran through the chorus again. I felt her eyes pierce me like an arrow.

I was a coward. I couldn't wait for the song to end before I bolted. I turned and ducked away, clanging the door open from the auditorium and rushing past a group of confused freshmen.

* * *

><p>It was maybe two hours later before Quinn finally came looking for me. I didn't know if she would at all, honestly. All I could do was think about her singing those words, and knowing that she meant them for me. I even looked the song up on my phone and listened to it half a dozen times, before I had the words memorized. I had to admit, even though I wasn't really thinking about it, that the song suited her voice. She had made a good decision to use it for an audition.<p>

But what precisely did she mean by saying she wanted to sing it to me? I clearly caught the fact that she wanted to be _the only girl_ I loved.. but all my life? That was a lot to ask a person. Especially when I hadn't even fully come to terms with the fact that I _could_ love a girl, at all, much less in the way she implied and certainly not for, forever.

"Figures you'd be up here." Quinn said, after shuffling and scraping herself over the lip of the roof.

I had been nestled back in my customary spot ever since I'd left the auditorium. I'd brought my giant comforter, though, because it was early November now and it would start snowing soon. The sun was down, and it was rapidly moving from chilly to downright cold.

I wordlessly opened my arm, allowing her to burrow into the blanket with me. I didn't feel the cold, but that was because my mind was on other things.

"You know me so well." I said it to be ironic. I was trying to imply that Quinn _didn't_ know me all that well, though it was a moot argument. Quinn would say she knew me better than myself. I would say she was psychotic and assumes she knows everything. It would lead to a fight.

That's why Quinn just sat there and ignored the jibe.

I sighed, and even though my body was tense with emotions I wasn't sure how to deal with, I allowed myself to snuggle into her. The night was beautiful, the sky a thick velvety black with a million tiny stars peeking out. There were hardly any clouds.

Quinn wrapped her arm around my shoulder and pulled me into her. I buried my face against her, because my nose had gotten a little cold during the last two hours I'd sat on the roof.

The silence grew between us, and I was finally starting to relax a little bit and stop thinking all those crazy, conflicting, insane thoughts when her voice surprised me.

"I know you love me, too," Quinn said quietly.

I tensed, making as if to move away from her, but she just kept her arm clamped around me and refused to let me draw away. I swallowed, distinctly uncomfortable with this. I was glad my head was tucked under her arm and I wasn't somewhere where she could see my face.

"Do you want to know how I know?" Quinn asked me, when I didn't say anything.

"Uh.. yeah." I swallowed. I didn't want to argue with Quinn, especially when her voice had this hard, flint-like quality to it. It made me feel like even though she appeared completely solid, only the slightest amount of pressure would make her chip away.

"You tell me in your sleep." Quinn said.

I sat there, beneath her arm, thinking about it.

Nobody other than Quinn has ever told me I talk in my sleep. In fact, I had denied it so much that she didn't even bother trying to tell me I do it, anymore. I assumed she gave up on that little jest and it went away.

I tried to ignore it, I really did. The sudden, rushing feeling in my chest that was so big and warm it wanted to explode out of me. But I was scared, too. This warm feeling had to battle with the cold fingers of terror and usually, terror won.

I shifted, and this time Quinn drew back, allowing me to pull away from her. When I met her eyes they were closed off and a little calculating, as if she was bracing for some kind of emotional attack. That hurt, probably more than I cared to think about. It hurt me to see Quinn flinch and prepare for me to cause her pain. All it made me want to do was gather her close to me and kiss her.

That should have been an indication for me and my thick skull that what she said was true. But I had to come to it in my own way, and I think Quinn understood that. I just looked at her, and after a while I moved my hand to her face and drew her close to me.

I pressed my lips against hers, and at first it felt extremely strange because mine were almost numb and hers were pretty cold, too. But I pressed harder, until I could feel it, and I felt Quinn melting beneath me.

It wasn't a kiss that asked for passion or one that tried to respond to the things she said to me. It was just a kiss that I gave her to let her know that I heard her, and listened to her.

"I liked your song." I said finally when we pulled away. Quinn was breathing deeply through her nose and her eyes were searching mine.

"I liked yours too. You killed it." Quinn gave me a small smile.

That little smile made me feel like Quinn was about to crack into a million little pieces. I swallowed my heart in my throat unevenly. "Quinn, I never.. I don't mean to.."

Quinn was nodding before I could finish what I was going to say. "I know, Santana. You're a good person."

It killed me, that Quinn said that to me. Because, deep down, I know that I'm _not_. I'm far from a good person.

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><p><strong>AN:** Sorry for these short couple of chapters, guys! But it's building up to the last few. This story has turned into something I never expected, and I honestly never expected the reaction to it, either. Every time I get a review or an alert, I'm amazed.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N:** Sorry this is so long overdue. It took me a while to get the inspiration for it. I'm sincerely flattered by everyone who keeps saying they wish this story wouldn't end, etc. I'm sorry to say that there will probably only be two more chapters after this. I'm writing a Brittana fic, called _Dark Side,_ if you guys are interested in following my writing in general. It's pretty good. I don't know though, from what I've gathered, the lot of you are hardcore Quinntana shippers. :P

**Chapter 24**

"Santana?" Brittany's voice whispered out in the darkness. I snatched my eyes open, suddenly very awake. It was weird, like one moment I was in the depths of sleep and the next, I was blinking away slumber and all my muscles were coiled and tense, like I was ready to sprint away.

"Yeah, Britt?" I whispered back. It was still night time, and I couldn't imagine what would have woken her up. I shifted in the bed, sliding towards her so that our bodies were facing one another. I couldn't see much of anything except her gray outline in the shadows.

"You were talking in your sleep," Brittany murmured. She reached her hand out and brushed her fingertips against my face.

I blinked. "What about?" I felt nerves jangling in my stomach.

"Something about Quinn.." Brittany said with a little sigh. I flinched against the information, trying to keep it out of my heart.

"That's weird," I said. "Aren't you sleepy?" I didn't know how Brittany wasn't bone tired. Just a few hours ago, we'd gorged on turkey and mashed potatoes and green bean casserole, Loretta Pierce style. I love Brittany's mom's cooking more than most, and so I had only picked at the early brunch my family prepared for the holiday. I'd been spending Thanksgiving with Brittany and her family since I was a kid, and it still felt normal and right to be doing it now. It was also a tradition for me to spend the night with Britt afterwards, the two of us curling up on her bed and watching the Macy's parade on the television while her dad and uncles whooped and hollered over football downstairs. The continuity of it, the general comfort of it, was enough to soothe away all the tension and ache that I'd been carrying around inside for the last few weeks. Brittany always had that effect on me, something I had never given myself a chance to realize, since we'd never spent so much time apart. Just being around her was like a balm to anything that ailed me.

I felt, rather than saw, Brittany shaking her head in the darkness. "Nope, I can't sleep for some reason." Her voice had a coy quality to it, like she was being mischievous.

It kinda put me on high alert. I tensed when Brittany shifted in the bed and slid closer to me, wrapping her leg over my hip and scooting my body closer to hers. Suddenly, our faces were flush together and we were breathing the same air. For the first time ever, the move didn't have me melting. My eyes flew open wide with shock, and I went rigid against her.

_Damnit, damnit, damnit.._ I swore internally. This was exactly the type of situation I'd been working hard to avoid over the last few days.

"What's wrong?" Brittany murmured. She brought her face in close and I got that tight, gut-wrenching sensation I always got right before Brittany was going to kiss me. Instead of sending waves of heat through my body, though, all it did was induce a slight panic.

"Uh, Britt?" I said, my voice high-pitched and a little strangled. "Um, whatcha doing?"

"What does it look like..?" Brittany breathed, and the next thing I knew she was pressing a kiss against my neck.

I closed my eyes tight and swallowed. "Brittany," I said, trying to sound firm. "What about Artie?"

"Hmm, what about him?" Brittany asked, and I winced when I felt her teeth against my skin.

It's so hard trying to do the right thing, it really is. Because I've never _not_ wanted Brittany, honestly. I think I was born wanting her. She fits against me like we were meant to be together, and she can do some seriously amazing things with her body, thanks to gymnastics lessons and dance class early on in life. I'd always offered up silent prayers of thanks for her parents' good judgment in that area.

"Britt, wait," I said, pushing against her. She huffed and drew back. I struggled a bit and then sat up, smoothing my hand through my hair.

Brittany did the same, and I could sense that she was facing me. I was suddenly very glad for the cover of darkness, because I knew this would be doubly hard to do if I was looking at her face.

"I don't think it's such a good idea that we, you know," I said finally.

"What? Why not?" Brittany said, sounding puzzled.

"Because you have a boyfriend.." I said, trying to sound as neutral as possible.

"So? That didn't bother you when you were with Puck." Brittany said flippantly, and then she shifted in the bed again. I got a little nervous until I realized she was facing me instead of sitting right next to me. Her hands were smoothing over my knees and the sensation was instantly soothing.

"Britt, that was different," I said, biting my lip.

"How?" She continued rubbing at my knees.

"I didn't care about Puckerman, he was just.. an amusement." I said finally. "Don't you care about Artie?"

"Sure I do." Brittany said, and I could practically feel her shrug. "But so what?"

"Then this would be cheating, right?" I was trying to lead her to that conclusion gently, but as with most things, Brittany couldn't be gently led. She had to be bulldozed into it.

"Oh, right, if you were a boy," Brittany said with a grin in her voice.

I winced and had to practically stop myself from slapping my forehead. _God, Santana, how fucked up are you,_ I chastised myself. This whole stupid, ugly, rotten thing is _my_ fault. My fault Brittany doesn't take relationships seriously.

"No, Brittany, I think he would consider it cheating," I said levelly.

Brittany paused, and I could imagine her tilting her head like she always does when she's trying to work out something new and different. "Um, but you said that sex with _girls_ isn't cheating," Brittany told me finally. She continued her ministrations against my knees.

I sighed. "I know I said that, Britt." I wish I could go back in time and strangle that thoughtless, selfish girl. That girl didn't give a shit about anybody but her own self, her own pleasure, and her own needs. Now Brittany has a warped sense of commitment and it's entirely my fault. "I was wrong, though."

I could tell Brittany didn't like that I'd said that. She drew away from me, and sat up straight. Now I was dying to be able to see her face, to make out what she was thinking. I felt helpless, like I always do whenever I'm at Atherton and I'm having a conversation with Brittany on the phone. It was maddening.

"Do you just.. not want me anymore?" Brittany said, confusion in her voice.

"God, no, Britt, not that," I said, desperately. I couldn't handle the idea of hurting her, I really couldn't. Brittany had never done anything to deserve that, and I knew this giant fucked up situation was my fault. "Just, I don't want you to be a cheater, okay?" I tried to sound light and encouraging. "You're better than that."

I could hear Brittany take in a tense breath and then let it out. "I guess." She didn't sound convinced, though.

My heart felt like it was being sliced in two. I quickly shifted in the bed and then practically crawled into Brittany's lap, nestling against her. She pulled her arms around me reflexively, and I took in a deep breath, inhaling her scent. I pressed my ear against her chest and felt the steady pulse of her heart in her ribcage.

"You're my best friend, you know that, right?" I whispered.

Brittany nodded against me, and ran her fingers through my hair. I squeezed my arms around her in an awkward hug, and felt her return the pressure. "I love you," I murmured to her.

"I love you too, Santana," Brittany said. It warmed my heart, just like it did every time since the first time.

Now, though, with my body pressed against her and my senses full of her, for the first time, I wasn't yelling at myself that the feeling I had was _wrong._ Because before, I was just trying to convince myself that every single thing that Brittany made me feel wasn't normal, and that I needed to suppress it and run away from it. Things had changed, and now I didn't have to fight with myself to convince myself that it was wrong. I just knew it was. Brittany's body fit around me perfectly, like a hand in a tailored glove, but it still felt off. I missed Quinn's slightly thicker arms and slightly more compact body, and my mind was full of Quinn's voice and Quinn's laugh.

The bigger part of me, the better part, was yelling at me to just tell Brittany already. To just tell her and get it over with. Because Brittany deserved to know. She'd been carrying this torch for me for however many years, and especially since last year, was trying to get me to come clean about my feelings for her, and for women in general. Brittany had been stubbornly guiding me on this path since the first time we kissed and it took my breath away.

But I'm a coward. I'm a coward because I can't bring myself to do it, because part of me knows that Brittany would shatter like glass with the knowledge. Just like I can't bring myself to admit to Quinn that I do love her, am _in love_ with her, because I just can't face what that means. It's too big and complicated and my life is full of too much stuff right now for me to deal with it.

"I miss you so much," Brittany whispered into my hair. I had begun drifting off, secure in her arms, and her voice jolted me slightly.

I nodded, and snugged tighter against her. "I know. Me, too." I whispered back. I stared out in the darkness. To me, my own words sounded too much like _goodbye._

* * *

><p>"Are you nervous?" I whispered to Quinn. There was a flurry of noise and movement around us, but Quinn was still and solid in the middle of it all, like a rock in a storm.<p>

Her hair was artfully layered against her head, and we were wearing matching silver dresses with black sashes and glimmering heels. She was sitting in a cushy looking chair, her legs crossed, with the fingers of one hand tapping against her forehead. She turned her eyes towards me, away from the sight of Sugar screeching at some hapless sophomore girl about using her lipstick.

"I don't really know," Quinn said to me, and even though her voice was steady and like ice, I could sense the uneasiness directly below her words. I propped against the arm rest of the chair, and reached down to tangle our fingers together.

"You're gonna do great," I told her warmly.

Quinn flashed me a brief smile, looked at our meshed hands, and then slowly drew them apart. "Thanks. But the last time I performed on stage, I went into labor.." She drew the sentence out and just looked out into the room.

I nodded, and rubbed my hand over her bare shoulder in encouragement. "It's okay, Q. This song is perfect for you."

Quinn smirked at me, but then just folded her arms across her midsection.

"Okay, ladies! It's now or never!" Miss Holiday said as the lights in the room flashed. All the girls began chattering and buzzing around, and Quinn and I stood up slowly.

"Good luck," I whispered to her.

We all took our positions on the stage, our backs turned to the audience. The music began and I felt the tingle of nervous energy jolt through my limbs and up my spine before I exhaled, and then everything just became instinct.

I spun around and belted out the first verse:

_ "Never win first place, I don't support the team_

_I can't take direction, and my socks are never clean_

_Teachers dated me, my parents hated me_

_I was always in a fight, 'cause I can't do nothin' right.."_

I twirled, kicked, and danced, and finally ended with my hand aimed at Quinn. She stepped forward, into the spotlight, and sang:

_ "Everyday I fight a war against the mirror_

_I can't take the person starin' back at me_

_I'm a hazard to myself.."_

I flashed her a smile as the entire group took up the chorus.

_ "Don't let me get me_

_I'm my own worst enemy_

_It's bad when you annoy yourself_

_So irritating_

_Don't wanna be my friend no more_

_I wanna be somebody else_

_I wanna be somebody else, yeah."_

I didn't have time to think about what I was doing, I just simply _did_ it. I was a muscle machine, programmed to dance in synchronization with the other girls. I kept my eyes trained to Quinn, though, always peripherally aware of her. We both stepped forward from the throng of dancing girls and looked at each other as we sang the next part together:

"_Doctor, doctor won't you please prescribe me somethin'?_

_A day in the life of someone else.._

'_Cause I'm a hazard to myself."_

The chorus swelled again and we ended the routine to complete silence. Then, like the slow swell of a distant stampede, applause thundered throughout the building. My chest was heaving with the effort to pull in oxygen, and I slanted Quinn a triumphant smile. The one she flashed back at me was full of giddy pride.

We gathered together with Miss Holiday and the other groups as the judges announced the winners. It felt surreal and far off, to be doing this again, but this time in drastically different circumstances. The last time, Quinn and I had been shunted to the back, harmonizing with everyone else. And as soon as our performance was over, Quinn was rocked by labor. She gave birth to her daughter as Vocal Adrenaline blew our rapshod collection of Journey songs out of the water.

Still, I sorta missed the annoying, nasally whine of Rachel Berry and Finn's dufus grin, Mr. Schue's hopeful face and the presence of people that were more than just classmates to me. I clutched at Quinn, gripping her hands together tightly in mine. It was like my whole body was wound criminally tight and it would twist in half any moment.

"And the winner is…" The announcer's voice trailed out over the silence, full of anticipation. "The Vox!" The whole room erupted into cheers.

I smiled and immediately found Quinn's eyes. She was grinning like a crazy person and I could see all of her teeth. It ignited a warm flush down my body and I immediately wrapped myself around her in a huge hug.

The other girls were all screaming and jumping up and down, gripping each other. Miss Holiday walked over to accept the trophy. I smirked at Quinn and gripped her hand tightly, and turned and wove through the tight assembly of bodies.

"What are you doing?" Quinn asked with a laugh in her voice. I smiled at her once we'd disappeared from the stage, and we were tucked into a secret little nook in the wings. There were people bustling around, working with the lighting and sound equipment, but nobody paid us any attention.

"Shh," I shushed Quinn and pressed her tighter against the wall, nudging in between a metal rack and the curtains of the stage. Quinn's eyes flashed to mine in a knowing look, and then talking wasn't necessary between us. Quinn's whole body vibrated with heat and hunger, and she met my lips with intense ferocity when I smashed our faces together.

The kiss was full of passion and desire, and nothing about it was soothing or gentle. It was all teeth and tongues and mindless pressure. Before long my face felt swollen and hot, lips and cheeks plumping and turning pink, and my breath exploded in my chest with a frenzy.

Quinn's hands were clawing down my back, impatiently, and I slid my hand against the smooth contour of her stomach, scratching against the fabric of her silver dress. Quinn grunted when I slid my mouth against her neck, teasing the flesh there. I felt her press her hips desperately against mine.

Suddenly, Quinn's entire body snapped rigid, and I could tell by the way she gasped that something wasn't right. I pulled away to look at her face in confusion, and I saw with mounting horror that her eyes were snapped wide open and guilt was written all over her face.

"Brittany," Quinn mouthed, and that just intensified my confusion.

"What?" I asked, perplexed.

Then I heard the sound of a sob breaking out behind me, and my whole body went cold. I slowly, slowly turned around, my heart sinking in my chest. I didn't want to confront what I knew was going to be right behind me.

"Oh, god," I whispered, still in denial, even though my eyes were glued to Brittany's shape. She was wearing tight jeans and a longsleeved shirt, and her hair was pressed and pretty. I barely registered the form of Rachel Berry right next to her, pressing a reassuring palm against Brittany's lower back.

"Britt—" I tried to say something comforting, I really did. I edged closer to her, keenly aware of how Brittany's face was wrinkled up with pain and how tears were slowly leaking down her face.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Brittany whispered. She kept jerking her eyes between Quinn and I and I felt like I was shrinking beneath her gaze.

_Because sex isn't dating,_ I said in my mind, but I couldn't find the way to bring the words out. I just watched, helpless, and Brittany crumpled further and further into herself. She looked more confused than anything, and that was probably was hurt me the most of all.

"I just thought.. I mean.." Brittany stuttered. Rachel was whispering to her, soothing little nonsense words and I was immediately jealous. I was jealous of the way Rachel was close to Brittany, that it was _Rachel_ comforting Brittany's hurt, and not me.

"I just thought you felt _that way_ about me," Brittany whispered, finally. My face tightened and I had to swallow several times.

_Sex with girls isn't cheating,_ I thought to myself again. I mean, it's the thing I'd been telling Brittany for years, right? Sex isn't dating and sex with girls isn't cheating, so how could I have known this would hurt her? But of course I did. Of course I knew that, no matter what, somehow, someone was going to end up hurt at the end of this. I felt a wave of shame crash down on me, and my whole body heated up.

"There was nothing to tell, Britt," I muttered, finally. I suddenly became very aware of Quinn's presence behind me, like the focus of her eyes had palpable weight. I tensed and repressed a shudder, waiting for the wave of anger and hurt to roll off of her, too. I deserved it, and I was ready for it. "I mean, it's just.."

"No!" Brittany said abruptly, and her refusal to hear me out felt like a slap. I felt my heart slowly crumbling as she pushed the tears off of her cheeks angrily. "You should have told me!"

I nodded, because I already knew that. "I'm sorry." I whispered hoarsely.

"Let's go, Brittany," it was the first thing Rachel had said that I could hear. I wanted to stop her. Everything in me screamed to reach out and pull her against me, to stop her from leaving. But I didn't. I couldn't. I was glued to the spot and I was helpless to watch her go.

"Brittany.." Quinn said again, louder. She stepped forward and was next to me, and we both watched as Britt and Rachel disappeared off to the side of the stage.

I glanced around blindly, trying desperately to find something to hold on to since it felt like my world was slowly shattering. Quinn pressed her fingers against my forearm, and I've never felt like more of a piece of shit. I didn't deserve Quinn's kindness, _not now._ Not ever, really.

"This sucks," Quinn said after a tense moment, and I just nodded.

I felt like I should be crying. Something. I mean, Brittany is probably the most important person in my life, and always has been. I've never made her cry like that before, ever. I know I've done some screwed up shit in the past but this was going to go down as one of the worst things I've ever done.

My whole body felt numb. Everything, the noises from the crewmen working around us and the chatter of various voices raised in conversation, was all blurry and foggy. I felt like the further away Brittany got from me, the smaller I grew, until I would eventually evaporate into nothingness.

"I never wanted this to happen." I whispered, and pressed my eyes tightly closed.

Quinn was in front of me, and she hugged me against her. I shook my head, because I didn't want her to hold me. I couldn't really fight against it either, though. My arms felt like they had no weight or substance.

I should have been honest with Brittany, with myself, and with Quinn. Part of me knew it the whole time and another part of me reeled from the shock of the information. I mean, I'd only just recently come to terms with the idea that I'm probably a lesbian. I was fighting _that_ realization with everything in me, and it left me more confused and lost than anything else. And then the thing with Quinn.. it was new and different and exciting, but mostly terrifying. Quinn's my _friend._ She's always been my friend, and when we slammed through the lines that defined "just friends" into "something more" everything got complicated.

_It wasn't supposed to be so complicated_, I thought to myself desperately. I was still trying hard to work out how I'd gotten where I was now, and when everything spiraled so far out of control.

* * *

><p>The next few weeks passed by in a gray haze. Winter finally took over the mountains, and Morrow was cloaked in thick snow that piled almost two feet high. Atherton, nestled in a valley, was spared the worst of the wind, but the steep angles created drifts on the grounds that buried our cars and made it almost impossible to go outside.<p>

Quinn and I were sitting together in one of the student snack lounges, her with her laptop open on her lap and me just staring off outside. We were on the third floor, so the entire landscape outside was sandwiched in white. White skies, white snow on the ground, with the brittle black silhouettes of dead trees breaking against the horizon.

"You okay?" Quinn asked me, and I nodded, before turning my face towards hers. I still felt oddly numb, like nothing really touched me. My hands clutched around the ceramic of the mug I held, pressing tight against it, almost begging it to burn me. It didn't. I sipped on the cappuccino inside and it felt like I was drinking novacaine, the liquid coating my throat and insides with apathy.

"This is totally screwed up," Quinn said finally.

I looked at her again and silently agreed.

"I mean, at least if we were in Lima right now, we'd have a snow day," Quinn said, oblivious to the caustic path my mind was on. I slowly nodded, catching up to her point.

"That's true. I'll never take a snow day for granted again." I gave Quinn a small smile, even though it took a lot of effort.

She smiled back at me, and I couldn't help but notice how sad, but resigned, her face was. She'd been giving me that slightly mournful but completely understanding look since sectionals.

It hurt, but not as badly, because I never emerged from the cloud of indifference I felt. The rational part of me knew that I should care, that I should at least talk to Quinn about what was going on with us. But I couldn't bring myself to do it.

I couldn't bring myself to talk to Brittany, either, even though Quinn had urged me to, over and over again. Every time I looked at her name stored in the contacts in my phone, I felt like I was back on that stage, her blue eyes full of pain and confusion, and I was suddenly drowning in shame. I couldn't.

I had never really contemplated what losing Brittany completely would feel like, but I guess this was it. I never, in a million years, thought it feel like every single emotion got sucked out of me, leaving me walking around like a hollow shell of a person.

Quinn sighed, because she noticed I was drifting off again. My attention couldn't stay planted in one place for long.

"Do you want to go to the arcade?" Quinn asked, her tone light. "Maybe play some Mrs. Pac Man?"

I shook my head. "I'm not in the mood," I said flatly.

Quinn watched my face for a moment. I stayed still, letting her.

"She's not going to be mad forever, you know," Quinn told me. I could sense the pain in her voice, hiding just under the surface. I felt like slime because I knew that I was partially to blame for that.

"I wouldn't blame her if she was." I said.

"I don't get why either one of you are acting like this," Quinn said, and it wasn't the first time she'd tried to have this conversation with me. I sighed, letting my gaze drift back outside, into the blinding whiteness.

"I mean, you two weren't dating, right?" Quinn asked. I shook my head. "And she's had sex with Artie and with other people since you've been here, right?" I nodded. "So.. what is the big damn deal?"

I looked back at Quinn and tried to think of a way to help her understand. I couldn't, not really, unless I wanted to backtrack over years of the push-pull between Brittany and me.

"Just, she felt betrayed," I said, finally, because I couldn't think of anything else. "We weren't together but, we had this.. I don't know. This understanding." I struggled to find a way to describe it. "She wanted to be with me." There. I put it out there. It hurt because I knew that, most likely, that statement wasn't true anymore. Brittany didn't want to be with me, would likely never want it, and even though it should have filled me with relief, it just made me feel like I was made out of lead. I mean, that's what I'd wanted for so long, right? For Brittany to forget about the silly notion of us being a couple and move on with her life?

"So why weren't you guys ever together?" Quinn asked. This felt like déjà vu, and also like Quinn was asking me an entirely different question.

I met Quinn's eyes, for the first time, and really looked at her. I looked at the soft planes of her face and the way she was struggling to understand me, the way her eyebrows were knit delicately above her dark green eyes, and the way she was pressing her lips together tightly, as if she wanted to stop them from trembling.

"Because I can't.. I'm not.." I felt all the usual denials and explanations drift out of me, and they seemed weak and worthless.

Quinn was watching me and I felt open and exposed, and the expression on her face made me want to cry.

"Santana, you can," Quinn said finally, and it felt like a weight was settling in my chest. "You are." She told me without room for argument.

I swallowed the tears that constricted my throat, and nodded. It was a mute nod, and just a little one, really, but it felt like everything, my entire world, changed with that nod. I was accepting what Quinn said. I was agreeing with it.

_You can. You are. _

"It's not just about Brittany anymore, though," I whispered. I felt Quinn's eyes bore into mine and I didn't flinch away, even though I wanted to. My heart began speeding up in my chest and I swallowed again, thickly.

Quinn's eyes grew softer the longer she looked at me, and I think I caught the flicker of understanding there, even if was only briefly. She slid her hands over the expanse of the little table and gripped mine in hers, giving them a tight squeeze. I returned the pressure weakly.

Quinn almost smiled at me, almost. I could see the muscles in her face twitching upwards, but it was gone so quickly I wondered if I didn't imagine it.

"Everything is going to be okay," Quinn said, and I knew she wasn't just talking about me and Brittany, or even about me and her. She meant _everything._

I nodded again, this time with more conviction. I wasn't done punishing myself, but I could allow that eventually, things would be okay.

"I'm ready to go to sleep," I told Quinn. I felt exhausted. I couldn't handle the pressure that weighed down my bones, and the conflicting but equally unnerving feeling of being insubstantial, like a fog.

Quinn just nodded, full of understanding, and she gathered up her bookbag and both of us stood up without another word. We walked up the winding staircase to our dorm room and I breathed in a deep breath, because the familiar scent and sight was comforting.

It was dark in our room, even though it was only early evening. The thick curtain was drawn across the window, blotting out the weak winter light. I immediately began stripping down and changed into pajamas, and Quinn did the same thing.

I sat down on my bed, fully intending to slip beneath the thick comforter and dive into sleep, when I heard my phone beep. I looked at it, slightly curious. The notification of a new e-mail popped up on the screen.

Part of me wanted to ignore it, but when I checked the mobile app on my phone, I saw, with a sinking sensation, that the e-mail was from Brittany.

I sat my phone down slowly, and then reached across my desk and tugged on my laptop.

Quinn looked at me curiously, but I ignored her, and she just continued brushing her hair.

I powered my laptop up and then impatiently clicked on the browser once the startup menu loaded. I logged into my e-mail account and with a ragged breath clicked on the e-mail from Brittany.

It was blank. The subject line read _(no subject)_ and the text body was bare. The only thing there was a blue link that led to an attachment. I clicked it with growing trepidation, and my music player loaded.

I didn't recognize the song. I had to listen to it twice before full understanding hit me.

"_No matter what you say about love_

_I keep coming back for more_

_Keep my hand in the fire, sooner or later_

_I get what I'm asking for_

_No matter what you say about life_

_I learn every time I bleed_

_The truth is a stranger, soul is in danger_

_I gotta let my spirit be free_

_To admit that I'm wrong_

_And then change my mind_

_Sorry but I have to move on_

_And leave you behind.."_

Right about there was when I felt the bed dip, and Quinn slide wordlessly next to me. I stared at my computer screen, my eyes burning.

"_I can't waste time so give it a moment_

_I realize nothing's broken_

_No need to worry about everything I've done_

_Live every second like it was my last one_

_Don't look back, got a new direction_

_I loved you once, needed protection_

_You're still a part of everything I do_

_You're on my heart just like a tattoo."_

I didn't realize I was crying. I didn't register anything beyond the words and music of the song. It felt like they were driving into me with the force of nails hammered in, and Quinn shifted so that she could wrap her arms around me and squeeze me tightly to her.

"_Just like a tattoo_

_I'll always have you_

_I'll always have you_

_I'll always have you_

_Sick of playing all of these games_

_It's not about taking sides_

_When I looked in the mirror didn't deliver_

_It hurt enough to think that I could stop_

_Admit that I'm wrong_

_And then change my mind_

_Sorry, but I've gotta be strong_

_And leave you behind_

_If I live every moment_

_Won't change any moment_

_There's still a part of me in you_

_I will never regret you_

_Still the memory of you_

_Marks everything I do_

_Just like a tattoo_

_I'll always have you.."_

I was sobbing so hard by the time the song finished that my laptop was just a blurry outline. I dimly felt Quinn hugging me, cradling my body against hers and rocking me. Hot tears flooded down my face and my heart felt like it was disintegrating in my chest. I couldn't breathe, or think. All I could do was feel, and the only thing I felt was pain.

"It hurts," I managed, and Quinn nodded, pressing her lips against my face. She slipped the laptop out of my lap and set it on the floor, before she quickly pushed me down against the blankets. I didn't fight her. I didn't have it in me to fight her. Quinn wrapped her arms around me and pulled my body close to hers, and I just sobbed into her shoulder.

I didn't notice the fact that Quinn was crying, too, and that her tears, silent, were mingling with mine. All I knew was that everything hurt, and the hurt was so big I didn't think I could survive it.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Well.. you knew it was coming. I did warn you about angst. Sorry about all the lyrics.

The songs featured here are: **.com/watch?v=K_t9AA3Z4PE**

And **.com/watch?v=UAwf6zBgs3U**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N:** I'll honestly never get over the overwhelming response to this story. I appreciate all reviews, both positive and negative. I understand a lot of you don't like the Brittana in this story, but I did always intend for this to be sort of a conflict for Santana between the two of them. Hence the title of the piece. Santana has been pretty much an idiot this entire time, and she knows that.

**Chapter 25**

The next morning was only the second time I've ever woken up before Quinn at Atherton. The last time, it was after I'd come back from spending the weekend with Brittany. The irony of the two situations was not lost on me.

I lied in bed, watching her. Even though I've known Quinn since we were both gangly thirteen-year-olds, with more angles than curves, it never stops surprising me how utterly beautiful she is. It's hard for me to see sometimes, because I get so caught up in the other things going on between us – barely repressed anger, or loud arguments, or, in our past lives, the constant competition between us. But right now, with none of those things imposing, I could look at her and just.. damn. She's the kind of person who will be beautiful her whole life, and with time, will only keep getting more beautiful.

I can't say that I've _never_ been jealous of Quinn. I have been, especially freshman year when our relationship was still sort of unsteady. She drew so much attention because she was the new girl, and instead of being ostracized, it was like everyone wanted to know her. Until then, I'd been the undisputed hottie of our grade. Quinn got more attention than I did, maybe because she was so wholesome and innocent-seeming, and it drove me kinda nuts.

I spent a lot of time grinding my teeth because I didn't understand how she could pull boys while wearing cardigans and ankle-length flowery skirts, while I had to strip and get drunk and grind in order to get the same kind of attention. I can't lie, something about it might have led to the flood of insecurity I felt last summer, which prompted my little enhancements. I don't regret the boob job, but I can't say it's something I'm exactly proud of.

Still, it was a dynamic of our friendship that always went unspoken. We never addressed it. And I grew out of it, mostly. I'm not jealous of Quinn now, but I think that's because I had watched her fall from glory. Rather, her flaming plummet. Quinn had climbed too high, too fast, and she'd paid for it.

I didn't have a reason to be jealous anymore, because I know now that no one is perfect, and both Quinn and I are far from it. We're both damaged in different ways.

I brushed my fingers through her hair, moving her bangs from her forehead. Her face muscles twitched, and she let out a soft sigh before she rolled over.

I glanced around the room, trying to gauge the time. It was still pretty dark, but that didn't mean anything. The snow storms we'd been having lately could make it look like night time in the middle of the day. I sighed, slowly, and then slid towards the foot of the bed, dodging Quinn's feet, standing up quickly and hoping I didn't bother her. A quick glance at her face reassured me that she was still sleeping.

I clutched at my cell phone, checking the time. It was only eight. On a Saturday. I repressed an internal groan, because I had intended to sleep away half the day, in order to avoid the fact that there was _nothing_ to do around here, since we were snowed in, and the fact that I couldn't shake the heavy depression that had been following me for weeks since sectionals.

I decided to just accept it, since I was wide awake and I didn't want to wake Quinn up by tossing and turning in the bed for hours. I slowly padded into the bathroom and stripped, hopping in the shower.

I spent the time bathing to think about what had happened last night. The whole thing had Rachel Berry written all over it. Britt is an intuitive person, that's a fact, but she's far from indirect. She doesn't make big statements, unless she is literally making a statement. She's very straight-forward and lacks a certain flare for the dramatic. Sending me a song in an e-mail definitely was more up Berry's alley, and I tried not to dwell so long on the idea that they had been spending a lot of time together lately.

Maybe Brittany and Rachel just had a natural friendship chemistry between them, that they never explored before, because of me. I don't know. It's not my business to care about it either way, even if they both had boyfriends.

That old, instinctive fear swelled inside of me, to think that Britt had talked to Rachel about us. About _me._ It's going to be a long time before I stop reacting with panic any time I consider the idea that people _know._ It's even hard for me to say it in my head. That people _know_.. that I'm a lesbian.

Not that Rachel knew that. Even Brittany didn't know that. Only I did. And Quinn. I think Quinn knew it before I did, which is a weird thing to think about.

Above anything else, Quinn has been the best kind of friend to me that anyone could ever be over the last few months. Maybe even better than Brittany, if I want to be honest. The underlying problem with being so wrapped up in Brittany, is that Brittany makes things really easy for me. Maybe that's not what I need. Maybe I need somebody to make things hard for me sometimes, to complicate and challenge me, and basically knock me on my ass once in a while.

Quinn has certainly done that.

I just didn't understand why this whole thing had to come to a head _now._ Why did anything have to happen that forced me to deal with this? Why couldn't I just be one of those people who hides in the closet until I'm in college? Well, I guess I'm still technically _in the closet._ But I didn't even know there was a fucking closet until recently, and I was happy not being aware of it.

I guess. I mean, it's hard to really say if I've ever been entirely happy. And that's a pretty frightening realization. Who wants to wake up one day and realize they can't say, truly, if they've ever been happy?

I sighed, stepping out of the shower, and wrapped myself up in a towel. This is a maudlin train of thought and I'd been riding it for too many days to count. I was tired of being all mopey and upset.

Quinn was probably right, that this thing between Brittany and I was being blown out of proportion. I just felt so damn guilty and sad. Even if I never wanted to admit it to myself, I always knew Brittany would rather be with me than anyone. She's never had a boyfriend before Artie, and I think if I had agreed to date her during the summer, like she'd been hinting at, that would have never happened. And I'd always gone so far out of my way to stress to Brittany that I wasn't gay, that we weren't together, that the thing between us was just friendly. So I think her seeing me doing things with Quinn that I'd only ever done with her was hard.

Well, it happened. It was over and done. And Brittany was trying to move on. Even though the message was inspired by Rachel, the content was definitely all Britt. It made sense, even if it still hurt. I just hoped that we'd find our way back to being friends at some point.

I took a minute to brush my hair and put it up in a curly ponytail, not bothering to blow dry it. I still didn't have the energy to care about impressing anybody.

I walked back into the room, still wrapped up in a towel. I looked at Quinn, still sleeping, and sucked in a breath, before walking slowly over to the bed and easing down on the foot of mattress she left between herself and the edge.

"Quinn," I murmured quietly. I lifted my hand and pressed against her face, rubbing my thumb against her cheek. "Quiiiiinn,"

She wrinkled up her nose and I smiled because it was cute. She slowly cracked her eyes open and her face immediately tightened. It made me feel inexplicably sad, to see that her first instinct around me was to withdraw. I immediately missed the soft way she looked while asleep.

I knit my eyebrows together, and rubbed my thumb over the tension in her forehead.

"Hey," Quinn croaked softly.

I gave her a faint smile. "Hey."

I watched Quinn wake up by degrees. She slowly stretched, turning onto her back and lifting her arms above her head. I watched the muscles jump in her neck and the way her body rolled beneath the blanket.

"How are you today?" Quinn asked, her voice sounding much more normal, though it still had sleep in it.

I tilted my head at her, and tried to think before I said anything. I raised my eyebrows slightly in surprise when I realized I wasn't as upset as I had been. I guess crying helped drain all the pent up emotion out of me.

"I think I'm actually in a pretty good mood today." I gave her a small smile.

Quinn quirked her eyebrows. "Really? You're done playing the lovesick teenager?"

I rolled my eyes at her. "Not really ready to joke about it yet," I told her.

Quinn's face softened. "Sorry."

I shrugged. "No big deal. Can't drag around a dead dog forever. Or whatever the saying is."

Quinn snorted, and shifted in the bed, rolling back onto her side. "I'm telling you, you two are completely ridiculous."

"Yeah, I think I realize that," I said, frowning. "You've told me enough times."

Quinn glanced up and met my eyes solidly before she offered a shrug. "I don't get why you put yourselves through this this whole time. It seems like a lot of drama and unnecessary pain."

I began to feel slightly uncomfortable with this situation. I didn't want to talk about Brittany, or our past. I didn't want to think about it or what she was doing or what either one of us had gone through. And especially not with Quinn! She's the only person – besides maybe Rachel – who knows about Brittany and I, in full detail, and she's also the only other girl I've ever slept with.

"If you love somebody, you should just be with them," Quinn said into the silence that built around us. I looked back at her, wordlessly. I didn't know what to say. "I mean it. If I was in love with someone, I wouldn't let a stupid thing like a label get in the way of us being together."

It felt like someone had sucked all the air out of my lungs. I couldn't really describe it, and I don't know if Quinn noticed it, because I sat there, paralyzed. My chest was frozen, though, and I began to feel light headed. I slowly sucked in a breath and let it out.

"Quinn." I said it quietly, but seriously, and it made her look at me. "I'm not in love with Brittany." That was the first time I'd ever actually said that to Quinn. And I knew it was true.

Quinn stared at my face for a long moment, confusion knitting her eyebrows.

I was starting to feel ridiculously awkward. I wanted to get up and get dressed and get away from this conversation, but something about the way Quinn was looking at me, had me pinned in place.

"It's hard for me to believe that, Santana," Quinn said finally. "You have to be at least a little bit in love with her."

I shook my head. I didn't want to argue this with Quinn.

"What do you mean, _if_ you were in love with someone?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. I felt like my whole body was slowly lighting on fire, because a flush crept up my face and I felt like I was instantaneously breaking out in a nervous sweat. I tried to look away, but Quinn was suddenly staring at me. "You aren't?"

She slowly sat up, sliding her back against the wall, shoving her pillow out of the way. She kept her eyes trained to my face, though. I couldn't read the expression on hers. It was a solid mask of indifference.

"Are we going to talk about this?" Quinn's voice gave her away, because it cracked and trembled. "Really? Now? Finally?"

I tried to say something. I couldn't think of anything to say. I just shrugged.

She stared at me for a long moment. I felt like I was growing hotter and hotter under her gaze.

"Santana, I don't know anymore." Quinn said finally. It hurt me. It made it feel like my chest was slowly cracking in half. "I did think that I was. Especially after Halloween. But even before that."

Quinn's hands were trembling, so she clutched them tightly together in her lap. Her eyes stayed glued to my face, though. She's much braver than I am. I could barely bring myself to look at her.

"It's so hard to be in love with you, though," Quinn said finally. Her voice was raw and honest, and full of a strained emotion.

I nodded and swallowed. I was trying to let her talk, since I had never done that before and I knew she had all of this building up inside of her for so long. I owed it to her to at least listen.

"It's hard to be in love with you, and watch you spend so much of your time living in denial and avoiding the truth, about yourself, about how you feel." I really didn't want to hear that.

I squinted at her, trying to convey to her how much I didn't want to talk about this part of it. I didn't say anything though.

"And then to see how you are about Brittany.." Quinn let out a long breath, and it was the first time she turned her face away from me. She stared off into the distance for a minute before she looked back at me. "It just feels pointless. Like I could never compare to her, and the only reason any of this.." She lifted her palm up and made a helpless motion with it. "..happened was because she wasn't around. It really sucks to feel like a consolation prize."

Oh, fuck. That really hurt. I knew I had to say something now, because Quinn looked like she was on the brink of a break down.

"Quinn, you _aren't_ a consolation prize. You aren't. This thing between you and me has _nothing_ to do with Brittany." I tried to sound sincere. I looked at Quinn square in the face. I think she wanted to believe me, but I don't know if she did. "I'm not going to lie to you," I swallowed. "For a long time I didn't want to admit that I had any feelings about it. Everything is easier without involving feelings." I gave her a watery, self-deprecating smile. "But I don't want you to live with that, thinking that you have to compare yourself to her. You don't. And the things I feel for you, definitely don't have anything to do with Brittany." I let out a shaky breath. I didn't think any of that came out right.

Quinn studied me for a moment. She bit her lip. "How do you feel about me?"

My stomach dropped and my heart sped up. I wondered if she could see the immediate flash of panic in my eyes.

"Well, I do love you, Quinn." I said. I let out a breath. "I haven't told you that enough lately. I love you. You're one of the best people in my life."

Quinn didn't let herself smile or react in any way. She just watched me.

I picked at the bedspread with trembling fingers. "I think that I'm in love with you, too." It came out strangled. It was hard and it hurt to say it. I felt vulnerable and exposed and like I wanted to run away. My heart was galloping. I didn't understand why I was so terrified, but I knew that I was.

"It was the little things at first," I said with a strangled chuckle. "Just little things that built up and made me realize there was something different about you, about us." I didn't look at her face. I had to say this while I had the focus, or else everything would come flooding out of me and I'd never find the words again. "Things like you telling me I talk in my sleep. Or how I sleep so hard whenever I'm in bed with you." It took me a while to realize that, but Quinn had been telling the truth. Whenever I lied in bed with Quinn, it was like we were in our own little world.

"Or you know, the way you say things that make me want to punch you and kiss you at the same time." I tried to sound light and amusing. I don't know if it worked. "The way I can't stand seeing you upset." I gulped in a breath. "How I like making you happy."

Quinn was still and silent, and I slowly let my eyes travel up to her face. She was staring at me and I couldn't read her expression. I clutched at the bedspread, feeling like I was a second away from bolting. The urge to run was extremely strong.

"Why now?" Quinn asked me, and she actually sounded kinda mad. I stared at her, surprised. "Why are you telling me this _now?_"

I shrugged, helpless. My mind was stumbling over anything I could even begin to say. "Uh, I don't know? Because I only just realized I'm.. you know.." I blushed furiously. "And that being in love with a girl is even _possible_ for me?"

"And it has nothing to do with Brittany basically telling you to kick rocks, twelve hours ago," Quinn said harshly. Her tone was demanding. Her eyebrows were knit together and her eyes flashed hotly.

I swallowed, trying to still the nerves that bundled and jumped in my gut. "No. I've had these thoughts and feelings for a little while." I suddenly felt like crying. It's one of the worst feelings in the world, to dump your guts like that and lay everything bare, and then have the person you're confessing to not believe you. I didn't blame her though. I understood where Quinn was coming from.

"How long?" Quinn demanded. "How long have you felt this way and you didn't tell me?"

I groped for an answer. I couldn't find one. "I don't know, Quinn! What you said earlier, about me being in denial? Well it's true!" I tried not to yell. It was hard. I felt my voice rising because it was the only defense I had left. "I honestly spend zero time analyzing my own feelings and whenever they come up, I always just push them away! I didn't want to be in love with you, all right?" I shrugged. "I don't want to be in love at all! It sucks! It's scary!"

Quinn was laughing now, but it was a harsh and grating sound. "How do you think I've felt about this this whole time, Santana?" She asked, though I didn't get the impression she really wanted me to answer. "I've tried to be understanding. I really have. I've tried to be patient and let you go at your own pace. Then I just thought that I was crazy, because there was no way you felt the same about me." She shook her head. "Do you know how completely stupid I felt? Do you know how hard it was to keep being patient and understanding while my heart was slowly breaking?"

I felt like a complete idiot. I felt like slime. I wanted to burrow under a rock and stay there forever. I've seen the many faces of Quinn Fabray, but this one – this angry, passionate, aching one – it was the worst.

"And now to find out you've felt like you might be in love with me, 'for a little while,'" She mocked what I'd said earlier. "Well you know what! That's just fucking great!"

I flinched at her tone.

"Why do you keep doing this?" She sounded more like she was asking me a serious question now, but I was too afraid to answer. "This thing where you look a good thing in the face and then turn around and run from it?"

I shrugged helplessly at her. "I don't know, Quinn. I don't know anything." It was safe to admit that because it was completely true.

She stared at me, and I felt like maybe some of the anger was draining from her face. "God, you piss me off," She said with real feeling. "I mean it. You're an idiot."

I nodded. "I know." I felt sheepish and insecure now. I didn't know how to react to anything that was going on.

"So what the hell does this mean?" Quinn sounded frustrated. Her face was going through too many emotions for me to properly keep up with. "And for the love of God, do NOT say 'I don't know,'"

I winced at Quinn's tone. "I'm not.. sure?" I could tell by the way her eyes flashed that she didn't like that answer. "Quinn, try to believe me, I never intended to hurt you." I was so desperate for her to believe me about that. "Everything is just confusing and hard for me right now, and it just kind of crept up on me and surprised me, you know?" I didn't realize that I was crying until my hands lifted up to push away at the tears that slid down my cheeks.

Quinn was struggling not to soften, but I could tell that she was. I didn't want her to. I definitely didn't intend to start crying so that she would stop being mad at me. I know that Quinn has every right to be furious, and I deserve whatever she decides to throw at me. I looked away from her, trying to keep my tears hidden.

"I wish I would have just told you. I wish I would have told Brittany about us. Mostly I wish I would have had the courage to be honest with myself about it to begin with."

I was surprised when I felt Quinn reach forward and tug on my arm. I looked at her, and how she'd leaned forward in order to circle my wrist with her fingers. She was tugging more insistently now, and I gave in, crawling towards her. Quinn gripped the towel covering me in one hand and pulled it away in a swift motion, tossing it on the ground.

I widened my eyes. Slow tears were still leaking from them and I was in an awkward position now, but Quinn didn't give me time to process, she just pushed me underneath the covers and then slid herself on top of me.

I was confused. I stared at her. How did everything flash into this so quickly?

"Quinn, I don't think this is a good idea—"

Quinn was shaking her head at me before I'd even finished the sentence. "This is how we communicate best," Quinn told me firmly. She ran the flat of her palm over my left breast, it was warm and solid against my slightly chilled skin. "Just like this. I'm tired of talking."

I wasn't used to Quinn being so forceful or dominant. I can't lie, it is kinda sexy, but my heart still felt slightly shattered from the word vomit we'd both just spewed. I had no idea how Quinn felt, because we'd mostly been focusing on my feelings, and then how I pissed her off.

Well, that might be an accurate portrayal of how she still felt, because she was still being pretty angry. Her hands began rubbing over my torso, and the pressure of her fingers was rough and they pressed almost painfully against my ribs. She was looking down at me and her face was hard and set in an expression I had never really seen before. She lowered herself over me and immediately attached herself to my neck, her lips kissing softly first, and then she opened her mouth and began to suck sharply.

I inhaled a breath, my hand immediately climbing upwards to tangle in her short hair. I gripped tightly, the pressure I applied against her scalp directly proportionate to the amount of sting and pain radiating from my neck. My heart began to thunder in my chest, and it was a mixture of fear and arousal that flooded through me.

Quinn grunted against my neck, shifting until she was sucking somewhere else. My breathing began to become uneven, though I didn't feel like my body was responding quickly enough. It felt off and wrong, somehow. I felt like I was swimming through a viscous liquid, everything muddled and distorted, and Quinn was flashing and flaring, like fire set to gasoline, burning up in an instant.

"Quinn, wait," I mumbled, tugging at her hair. She jerked her head, ignoring the way my fingers grasped her hair, and then she bit my earlobe. I gasped at the sudden shock of it, and then bit my lip in a moan as she slid her tongue along the sore area, finally sucking it into her mouth and enveloping it in wet heat.

Quinn didn't care about going slow or easy. She didn't seem like she even cared if my body was responding properly. Her hands were everywhere, touching and groping, and it still felt slightly surreal.

I wanted to slow this down. I finally turned my head, nudging against her face, and pressed my mouth against her lips.

She kissed me for a moment, but she ignored the pace I set, instead attacking my mouth with teeth and tongue and vehemence. It stole my breath away, made my heart pound in my chest and my stomach clench and writhe.

I couldn't help it, I was getting turned on. Quinn had that uncanny ability, even if my mind wasn't entirely on board. It was crazy how direct and unforgiving she was being. I felt all the blood rush to my head, turning my cheeks pink, the flow roaring in my ears.

I broke the kiss, gasping, and I noticed the way Quinn smirked at me. It was enough to send me over the edge of resistance. She immediately lowered her face back towards my neck, dragging her lips across my collarbones, nibbling and biting against them. I groaned, pressing up against her.

I began running my right hand down her body, impatient with her pajamas. I tugged at her t-shirt, sliding my fingers along the sharp definition of her spine, and then with it bunched up around her shoulders, pushed against her until she lifted up. Quinn's eyes locked onto mine and didn't break even when I pulled the shirt over her head. I breathed heavily.

Quinn let me throw her shirt away, and then she slid further down my body, running her mouth over the skin of my chest, and then dipping hot, open-mouthed kisses in the valley between my breasts. I squinted my eyes closed, moaning. One hand gripped her shoulder and the other tangled in her hair, because it was the only sort of control I felt I had.

Quinn lifted her face from me for a moment, and then without warning she sucked a nipple into her mouth. I whimpered and bucked beneath her, fingernails biting into her shoulder. I felt her hiss against me, and it had me clawing down her back.

I wanted to flip Quinn over, hold her down, make her feel the things she was making me feel. The feeling that flooded through me was intense and on the borderline between painful and sweet. Every kiss scalded me, and she was littering me with red marks and bruises, and I didn't care.

I pulled Quinn back up towards my face and licked my tongue into her mouth, biting and sucking on her lower lip. I felt her tremble against me, and I noticed the uneven way she was breathing, the unsteady way her fingers clutched against me. Quinn was brimming over with something, some emotion that I had no idea what it was.

I slid the palm of hand down her body, flush with her torso, rubbing my palm over her ribs and then along the cleft of her hip. Quinn shook her head, breaking away from me. "No." She said, her voice husky and dark.

I looked up at her, frowning. "No," I said back to her, in contradiction. I didn't move my hand. In fact, I slipped it along her lower stomach, nails sliding against the seam of her shorts.

Quinn glared at me, and slid her own hand down between our bodies. She didn't have the barrier of clothing to contend with, so she immediately slipped her fingers into my folds. Her eyes stayed glued on mine while she flicked a fingertip over my clit, making me arch and hiss. I struggled to stay clearheaded, but she was being brutal and fast, moving her fingers against me.

I pushed my hand into her shorts and watched her face contort. She shifted, as if to pull away from me, but I used my free hand to hold her still. She didn't have a lot of maneuverability, because her free hand was propping her body up. She began panting when I slid my fingers against her slick panties, touching the definition of her lips through the fabric.

My head flew back and a moan wrenched out of me when Quinn pushed two fingers inside, roughly. I couldn't help the way my hips jerked or the way my body pulsed, clenching around Quinn. I lost my train of thought and my hand stilled against Quinn for a moment. She lowered her head in triumph and placed a kiss against my neck.

I shifted, sliding my hand into her underwear, and immediately my fingers were drenched and hot. Quinn groaned, her lips still pressed against me, and I quickly circled her clit with precise, determined motions.

It was like we were competing to see who could remain in control the longest. I didn't know which one of us it would be. Quinn stilled her fingers inside of me for a moment, overwhelmed, before she quickly began jerking them, making my body shake and roll against the mattress. I panted and whined, cocking my hips and spreading my legs, inviting her to push deeper. The feeling in my lower abdomen began to tense and shift, squeezing and pulsing with the fast rhythm Quinn set.

I reached further down, my breath exploding in my chest, and slid two fingers inside of Quinn. She felt swollen and hot, and I felt her body undulate against me, her own hips rocking and quaking mindlessly.

We began to work together, our wrists sliding against one another, hips and bodies rolling. Quinn stayed pressed against my chest, her face buried there, and I could feel her chest heave with her breaths and her heart pound in her ribcage. It felt so solid and strong.

It didn't take long for us to climb high together. It was almost surreal, to feel my own insides grip and stutter around her fingers, and then to also feel hers doing the same thing. I don't know which one of us fell over the edge first, but our bodies suddenly went rigid and then began shuddering against one another, quaking and shaking.

Quinn slid away from me, drawing her fingers out and at the same time, forcing mine to slip away. I watched her as she buried herself into the blankets, turning her face into the pillow. I watched her chest heave and listened to her ragged breathing.

I curled against her slowly, wrapping my arms around her shoulders and drawing her close to me. She finally turned her face towards mine, and she looked at me with glassy, heavy eyes.

"Are you okay?" I whispered, my throat suddenly dry.

Quinn just watched me for a moment and didn't say anything. I began to feel that erratic feeling of panic coming back, even though my limbs were weak and shivery.

"I love you, Santana," Quinn said finally. She was looking me straight in the eyes when she said it. Her voice wasn't tender or gentle. She actually sounded a little mad.

I nodded, and swallowed. "I love you too, Quinn." I murmured back.

Quinn spent another moment studying my face, before she shook her head and then just pressed a kiss against my mouth. It was soft, and I felt her lips trembling slightly beneath mine. I breathed against her.

"There is something you're going to have to stop doing," Quinn said finally, when she broke away from me.

I looked at her, curiously. Her face was neutral.

"You have to stop leaving the cap off the toothpaste." Quinn deadpanned.

I stared.

"It's driving me crazy."

My face finally split in a grin, and I laughed.

* * *

><p>I laughed and began chasing Quinn, my movements jerky and muffled by the snow. Quinn looked back at me and shrieked, her face immediately breaking out in a huge grin, and she dashed away from me.<p>

We were in the flower garden. The entire place was covered in snow that piled so high in some places it flushed against our knees and threatened to climb above our waists. Snow covered the dead flower bushes, making obstacles that we had to dart in and out of. My face and hair was still dripping from the snowball Quinn had surprised me with, and my skin stung from the sudden blast of cold.

"You better keep running, Fabray!" I hollered. It was hard to run in ankle-high snow drifts, and the bottom half of my jeans were getting soaked.

The cold air was exploding in and out of my chest in white puffs, and I paused right next to a knee-high shrub that Quinn had taken the time to dash around. I waited a moment and then quickly flung myself over it, tackling Quinn to the ground.

Quinn was laughing and screaming, her entire body pressed deep into the snow. I laughed uncontrollably and began scooping up giant handfuls of snow and then rubbing it against her face and hair, pushing it below the collar of her thick snow jacket.

"That's enough! Pfft, Santana!" Quinn screamed, her face split in laughter.

"Say you're sorry!" I said, my knees pinning her waist down. Powdery snow was sticking to every single part of me, and Quinn was struggling and sputtering and laughing insanely.

"God, I think you broke something," Quinn wheezed. Her face was pink from the cold and from the running, and she was breathless.

"Say sorry," I warned, clutching another fistful of snow.

Quinn's eyes darted to my mittened hand and then back to my face.

"Santana, you're being unreasonable," She said in a prim tone.

I grinned and smashed the snow against her face.

She gasped and shrieked, and began struggling beneath me.

"Damnit, Santana!" She used her hands to wipe the snow off her face.

"Just say it," I taunted. "Just say sorry."

She scowled at me. "I'm sorry you're such an ass."

I laughed, but took pity on her. "Good enough I guess." I stood up slowly, and reached down to help her up.

I eyed her warily, because she was pretty apt to try to tackle me down, and I was abruptly freezing. My jeans and shoes were soaked through, and the snow melting in my shirt made goosebumps erupt all over my skin.

"Are you ready to go inside?" I asked uneasily. Quinn was dusting and brushing herself off, pulling clumps of snow out of her hair and wiping it away from her face and neck.

She glanced at me and smirked. "I guess. You look like drowned."

I scowled at her, and patted self-consciously at my hair. The moisture from the snow was undoubtedly making it frizz.

We made our way back towards the school building, but it was slow going. They had only just begun to clear paths along the places where there was concrete, and Quinn and I had been the first people to break the solid sheet of white in the unpaved areas. But it was easier to walk back in our own footprints.

My skin tingled and stung as soon as we stepped inside from the immediate warmth. Every particle of clothing was soaked, including my supposedly weather-proof coat. I laughed at Quinn, who was beginning to look pretty drowned herself.

She smiled at me and walked ahead of me up the stairs.

"Be careful!" I warned her when I heard her shoes squeaking dangerously against the marble.

I clutched the banister tightly, afraid that at any moment I'd lose my footing and then go crashing down two flights of stairs. I didn't want to imagine what I'd look like at the end of that little tumble.

Quinn kept throwing looks back at me along with little smiles. "You're the clumsy one, Santana," She said smugly.

I gave her the finger, but it looked kinda funny since I was wearing mittens.

She laughed, and pulled ahead of me, almost teasing me with the swift way she took the stairs. I was too afraid to rush after her, though. My shoes had already slipped once or twice.

When I finally made it to our dorm room, I was surprised she'd left the door open. Quinn usually closes it directly behind her.

I was even more surprised to see her standing in place, directly in front of me, rooted to the spot.

"What? Quinn?" I glanced at her back and then stepped up closer to her, looking further into the room.

My jaw dropped with shock.

There, standing in the middle of our room, was the red track-suit-clad Sue Sylvester.

"Hello, ladies," She said, smiling.

* * *

><p>Only one chapter left..<p> 


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

"What are you doing here?" Quinn's voice was quiet and controlled.

I just stared, first at Quinn, then at Sue. The whole thing was just too surreal.

"I think the better question is, _how_ did you get here?" I asked, because as far as I knew, the roads were blocked.

Sue shrugged and clasped her hands behind her back. "I was airlifted here by a very high placed associate of the CIA who owes me a favor." She gave us one of those weird, patronizing smiles.

I scoffed and moved past Quinn, who seemed glued in place. I unzipped my jacket and threw it on the floor, and kicked off my snow boots. Everything was soaked through and freezing, and I was ready to take a hot shower.

"Don't just stand there, Q, say something. Aren't you glad to see me?"

Quinn lifted an eyebrow and gave Sue a cold look. "Of course I am, after how much love and compassion you gave me last year.."

I kept shooting quick, tense little looks between Quinn and Sue. Quinn had never been bold in front of our former cheerleading coach, at least not where I could see it. I was too used to Quinn simpering and whining and sucking up to Sue. Even though she didn't have any power over us here, the automatic desire to cower and bow was like a reflex.

"Old water under the bridge." Sue made a dismissive gesture and turned around to look at me. I was busy tugging off my sticky jeans and trying to be covert about it. I had no intention of getting hypothermia because Sue Sylvester seemed to appear out of thin air. And this is _my_ room.

Not like she hasn't seen me in various states of nakedness before. It was just strange.

I suddenly missed my Cheerios uniform.

"And you, Sandbags. How are you?"

I shrugged, not quite getting the reference she made. "Fine."

I hadn't told Sue about my boob job. I didn't think anyone had. But the way she was eyeing me up and down made me think she probably knew about it.

I was being paranoid. That's an old fear, that Sue can read minds and that hiding things from her is useless.

She doesn't have anything on me, or any way to hurt or humiliate me here.

"How did they just let you in here?" Quinn asked in an amazed voice.

Sue chuckled dryly and didn't offer an answer to the question.

I tugged on a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and sat on my bed, looking up at Sue and over to Quinn. Her clothes were dripping onto the shiny hardwood floor.

"Quinn," I murmured, trying to get her attention. She flicked her gaze towards me. "You need to get out of those wet clothes."

Quinn shrugged and walked towards her bed, stepping around Sue. Her movements were slow and ponderous, as if she didn't quite believe the things she was seeing.

I didn't blame her. I mean, I'm a little perturbed about it too. But this _is_ Sue. I'm beyond being shocked at just how far her reach is, or how insane she is.

"So what can we help you with?" I asked, trying to distract her from watching Quinn undress.

I mean, she wasn't doing it in a creepy way. But still. I didn't like the idea of somebody else looking at Quinn naked.

"I actually came here to offer you both a proposition." Sue's face was hard and wrinkly and was its typical, no-nonsense self.

"But then things changed and so now I only need to talk to Quinn."

I looked at her, nervously. She had changed into pajamas and was gathering up the wet clothes, putting them in a hamper. She looked the sopping pile of my clothes on the ground and bit her lip, anxious. She wanted to put those up, too. But she would have had to walk past Sue to get them.

"All right." Quinn said finally, and looked at Sue. Both of them were standing, and even though they weren't particularly close, it felt like the entire room was too small and cramped.

I stayed sitting on my mattress, just watching.

"I'm willing to overlook your little misadventure last year and want to offer you your position back on the Cheerios." Sue looked directly at Quinn when she said it.

It felt a little bit like somebody sucked all the oxygen out of the room. I had a hard time breathing.

Quinn went incredibly still, and her eyes never left Sue's face. I could tell that the fact that she was completely frozen meant she was struggling with shock, or some other kind of emotion she didn't want to let Sue in on.

"My parents already paid for the tuition for the rest of the year," Quinn said carefully. "I'm in the show choir here, and on the track team.."

"Oh please, like that could be more gratifying than being a national star?" Sue dismissed Quinn's words with a wave of her hand. "I already spoke with your parents, and they're willing to let you come back to McKinley in the spring."

Quinn's eyebrows furrowed and she flicked a glance at me.

I didn't offer any kind of response. I was still reeling from it.

"I'm going to be frank with you." Sue said, in a tone that meant she probably wasn't. "Without you two and Brittany's useless ability to shake her booty, I have no show. I think that we might actually lose nationals this year."

I glared at the back of Sue's head. "If you hadn't tried to shoot her out of a cannon, you'd probably still have Brittany on the squad.."

Sue didn't even turn to look at me, but I could tell she was rolling her eyes. "That can't happen, Q," She plowed on, ignoring me. "McKinley needs you."

"Uh," Quinn said, and swallowed. "I'm going to have to think about it."

Sue glared at her. "Don't disappoint me in this, Q. I pulled a lot of strings for us to be able to have this meeting."

"You could have just called, or e-mailed.." I said, even though I knew she'd most likely ignore me.

"What about Santana?" Quinn asked, and surprised me. I jolted my gaze towards her. "You said without the two of us, you had no game. So why aren't you asking her, too?"

Sue swiveled on the balls of her feet and turned to look at me. "Her parents are already pulling her out of here at the end of the semester. I went over to talk to them and found out they already had plans to bring her back to McKinley anyway."

It felt like somebody had dumped a bucket of cold water over me. Quinn's face immediately froze again, and I sucked in a tense breath. It was hard for me to hear what Sue was saying.

How could they make that decision, and not tell me?

"I had no idea," I whispered, my eyes locked on Quinn's.

She just gave a subtle, gentle nod.

"Well ladies, as thrilled as this has been, I'm late for a meeting with the mayor. So I'll take my leave of you, and let you reminisce over your glory days on the Cheerios. I hope you don't wet yourselves with excitement, thinking about how much you have to look forward to coming back."

We watched in silence as Sue marched towards the door and then disappeared from it with a slam.

I couldn't suppress the way I flinched when I heard her yelling at somebody on the other side.

"Well that was freaky," I said finally.

Quinn sat down on her bed suddenly, as if her legs gave out.

"It was like an episode of the Twilight Zone," I said, trying to lighten the mood.

Quinn wouldn't look at me, and it seemed like her eyes were unfocused and staring.

"Hey, are you all right?" I stood up and walked over to her, and sat down on the bed beside her. I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. Everywhere her skin touched mine, it was ice cold.

"Yeah." Quinn blinked, and let out a heaving breath. "Yeah, that was just completely unexpected."

I nodded. It hadn't really hit me yet, what Sue had said. I wasn't allowing myself time to process it.

"What are you going to do?" I asked, gnawing on my bottom lip. I watched Quinn's face anxiously, trying to pick up on the physical cues of what she was thinking.

Quinn kept her features under control, though, and gave away nothing. "I don't know."

* * *

><p>"How could you not tell me about this?" I hissed into the receiver of my phone.<p>

"Santanita, I was going to. I wanted to do it in person, when you came home for Christmas break. _Las cosas son difíciles en este momento."_

My mother's voice was soft and pleading, and for once, it didn't work to soothe me. It just made me more enraged.

"Mama!" I shouted, cutting off her weak explanation. "That makes no sense! What if I left important things here because I thought I was going to come back? _¿Alguna vez pensar en otra cosa?"_

"Aiie, Santana, calm down."

"I just don't see how Papa had such an abrupt change of heart about this! A few months ago he told me if I got kicked out of here, he'd personally send me packing to Puerto Rico with Tia Juanita!" I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying not to scream. I was so frustrated and so irritated. I hated the idea that I had no control over my own life, that my parents were playing these power games with me.

"Santana, there is something I have to tell you about your father and me," My mother said, and she sounded wary and tired.

It made my spine straighten with something like fear.

"What?" I snapped.

"Your father…" She let out a sigh that crackled over the line. "He knows. About the affair. He left me, _hijita_."

I stared at the blank wall of my dorm room, processing. And suddenly I was seething.

"Are you fucking kidding me! So now my life is ruined because you couldn't keep it in your pants?" I yelled into the phone and I didn't care that it was loud enough for people outside of my room to hear.

"Don't talk to me that way, Santana," My mother warned, but her voice lacked conviction. She felt as ashamed of it as I was angry about it.

"So why does that have anything to do with me?" I realized that I was an instant away from crying. Tears clawed at the back of my throat, burning. I had to swallow several times and take short, shallow breaths. I was just so pissed. I couldn't think straight. "Your problems are not my problems!"

"Felix is being difficult about financial support." My mother said carefully, as if she didn't really want to reveal a lot about that particular part of their separation. "He doesn't want to battle custody with me, so he's willing to let you stay with me.. but he isn't willing to provide the tuition for you to remain at Atherton." My mother paused, and her tone of voice changed into something like coaxing. "I'm not sure why you're so upset, Santanita. I thought you hated it there? Don't you want to come home?"

I was shaking my head against everything my mother said. In a matter of minutes, I had found out three things that were going to irreparably change my life – I was going back to Lima, my parents were getting a divorce, and my dad didn't want me. My dad didn't _want_ me.

"That's not the point, Mama," I said quietly. "First you make me leave my friends and come here, and as soon as I get comfortable I have to go back? I'm halfway through the school year. I'm not going to know anything that's going on in the classes."

It wasn't a lie. And I think that, until about a month ago, I would have jumped at the opportunity to go back to Lima. Atherton wasn't as bad as I originally thought it was going to be, but I really did miss my friends, and my family.

Now there wouldn't even be that. I would be going back to a home without a family in it. Just me and my mom, the two people my father had rejected.

"I know it's difficult, _niña_. I'm sorry. I'll hire you tutors, whatever you want, so you can get caught up when you come back."

It was a cold consolation. It did nothing to comfort me.

"I don't want to go back," I said, and this time I let the misery show in my voice. "Please, Mama. Is there a way to talk to Papa? Will he maybe change his mind if I call him?"

"I don't think so, Santana. I'm sorry." My mother's most favorite and over-used phrase; _I'm sorry._ It was as if she thought things could actually be fixed by using them.

I hung up the phone after saying goodbye, and I finally let myself cry. I settled heavily onto my bed and clutched my pillow to my face, not caring that mascara and eyeliner would stain the sheets. I sobbed and sobbed because it wasn't fair, and I felt hopeless and powerless.

Quinn came in from practicing with the Vox a few hours later. By then, my eyes were dry, though they were scratchy and irritated. My whole face felt swollen and I had a headache.

I hadn't wanted to go to practice, because I knew I only had a few weeks left here. There was no point. I wouldn't be with them at regionals. They needed to figure out what they were going to do without me.

"Did you talk to your mom?" Quinn asked, taking in my face.

I just nodded.

Quinn pursed her lips, and began stripping off her uniform. I watched her go through the motions of changing, and it seemed like she was taking longer than usual, almost as if she were trying to buy time.

"I'm guessing Sue was right about what she said." Quinn said finally, after she'd tugged on a sweater and some jogging pants.

I nodded again and used the back of my hand to swipe away at the dried tear marks on my face. I looked at the black smudges on my skin and realized I probably looked like a sick raccoon.

"Have you talked to your parents yet?" I asked.

Quinn shook her head, and finally, after straightening up things in the room that didn't need to be straightened, she wandered over to me and sat down next to me on the bed. She seemed anxious and distant, which unnerved me.

I didn't know what to do with this. We had spent the rest of the weekend and the first half of the week acting like Sue's visit had been a mirage, but the closer it got to Winter Break – and the end of the semester – the harder it was to ignore the fact that I wasn't coming back to Atherton, and Quinn had a decision to make.

"I don't think there's a point," Quinn said carefully, neutrally. She kept her gaze pinned on something across the room and didn't look at me. "I'm not going back."

I watched her face and tried to absorb the immediate shock of pain that washed over me and through me. It wasn't entirely unexpected, but it was agonizing.

"Why not?" I whispered, and tried not to sound too desperate. My lips trembled and I fought back another wave of tears, sniffling quietly.

Quinn's hands tensed on the comforter. "Why would I?" She asked carefully, and her tone was cold. "Go back to being hypocrite Quinn Fabray? The stuck up Bible thumper who got knocked up while captaining the celibacy club?"

"What about head Cheerio, Quinn Fabray?" I asked, my voice steadying. I was finding, through the solid sheet of pain in my chest, that I was annoyed at Quinn. "What about the Quinn who was part of glee club? Or honor roll Quinn Fabray? The Quinn who had perfect attendance?"

All this time, I had imagined she had changed, and didn't care about labels, or social status. And this right here made it clear to me that I was wrong.

"Nobody knows about how badly I fucked up, here." Quinn was still staring out into the room, and even though she was right next to me, it felt like she was miles away. "Nobody has anything to judge me by." She turned to me, and finally looked at me, and her eyes were hard to read. "Don't you get it? At McKinley I had to fight for every scrap of recognition or respect, and then everything got tossed away because of one stupid, drunk decision. I can't go back there." Quinn shrugged. "There's nothing for me there."

I watched her face and tried to discern how exactly I had missed this. How it was possible that this girl still lived inside Quinn's skin, and that Quinn had only pretended to be rid of her. I was a little shocked at the fact that it surprised me, but I guess I shouldn't be.

"I'll be there," I whispered, even though it hurt. It felt like someone was ripping the words out of me, and they were dragging my heart out of my chest right along with them.

I realized it made me seem desperate and needy. I realized it sounded pathetic and lovesick. I didn't care.

Quinn's face softened a fraction and she looked like she wanted to reach out to me. I stiffened and withdrew, shifting away from her. I knew I wouldn't be able to stay coherent if she started being kind to me, when I felt like this.

"Santana, I'll be home in May." She looked at me with heavy eyes, and I think I sort of saw pity there. I'm not sure.

It feels terrible to have the person you love look at you like that.

I just shook my head, fighting back the way the tears built in my eyes and wanted to spill out. I looked away from her and then shrugged.

I felt her shift on the bed and the next thing I knew, she was wrapping her arms around me. I buried my face against her neck and struggled with my breathing, combating sobs. Thin, hot tears trickled out of the corners of my eyes, and they absorbed against her skin and sweat shirt.

"Shh, Santana. It's okay." Quinn murmured, her hands running up and down my back.

I sucked in a heavy breath. "I don't want to go back without you, Quinn." I swallowed the way the words tasted like shame, because I knew it wasn't enough. I knew that even if I laid myself bare and exposed all the parts of me, it still wouldn't be enough for her. I was woefully lacking and I knew it, intrinsically.

"I know," Quinn said into my hair. "I'm sorry."

"I just found you," I whispered, and the words were full of ache.

Quinn squeezed me tighter to her and my chest cracked on a sob. I just gave in, letting the tears fall free, allowing my body to shake and heave against her. I didn't have control over it anymore.

I didn't have control over anything. Not the way my body was slowly unraveling into hysterical tears, or the way Quinn Fabray held my heart in her hands and, even if she didn't mean to, was slowly shredding it. I didn't have control over the fact that my mother slept with someone my age and now my father doesn't want to have anything to do with either of us.

It all felt like a bad dream, and I kept begging to wake up.

* * *

><p>"At least come back to Lima for Christmas, Quinn. Please." I looked at her and my eyes and voice were pleading.<p>

My suitcase and duffle bags were open on my bed and I had begun angrily throwing clothes and items into them haphazardly. I was packing in a rage, because I felt desperate and panicked. I didn't care if my shit got wrinkled or broken. I wanted to personally destroy something, maybe it would make this feeling go away.

Quinn was calmly going behind me and pulling out the wadded clothes, folding them, and then replacing them in the bags.

My drawers were open and a cluster of pens, paper, and trash were littered everywhere. Discarded hangers strung on the floor and my laptop was zipped up in its case.

"I told you, my dad already booked us on a cruise. I haven't really seen him since him and my mom divorced. I can't just cancel on him now." Quinn's voice was steady and direct, and the way she was re-packing my things seemed like she was under complete control.

I wanted to scream and kick something. I wanted to slap her, kiss her. I wanted to tie her up and smuggle her into my car and back to Lima with me, with or without her consent.

Instead, I just furiously kept tossing things onto my bed, not caring if they made it into one of the open bags or not.

"I'm so pissed!" I said finally. I turned to look at her and couldn't contain how irritated I was.

Quinn just straightened and looked at me, her expression calm and understanding.

I hated that look on her face. It was condescending. It was annoying.

I wanted to cling to her and never let her go.

"Why can't you just do one thing for me, why?" I asked, bitterly. I was twisting a hanger in my hands over and over again to keep them preoccupied. I felt like I was only a second away from snapping and doing something crazy.

Quinn's eyebrow winged upwards, and she got this crazy look on her face. Like maybe she couldn't believe what I said. Or maybe she couldn't believe I had the nerve to say it.

"Santana, that's really rich." Her voice was a tad arrogant now. "I mean, considering."

I glared at her. "This is bullshit, Quinn. I'm not leaving you! You're leaving me! The least you could do is spend a few weeks with me back home."

Quinn just shook her head and watched me, patiently. I think she had the impression that I was going to do something insane.

I really wanted to. I just didn't know what.

"It's such bullshit." I said again, aggravated. "It isn't fair."

I wasn't just talking about the fact that Quinn had already made plans with her dad for Christmas. I was talking about my parents, my transfer back to McKinley, everything.

Quinn nodded and then she walked over towards me. I watched her, my face screwed up with anger and frustration. I felt itchy and frustrated, like my skin was too tight. I was uncomfortable and edgy and I didn't know what to do to feel better.

Quinn didn't say anything like _I'm sorry_ or _I know _or _It's okay_. It made it slightly better because those weren't the words I wanted to hear, anyway.

I wanted to hear the words _I love you and I won't leave you_, _or I love you and I'm coming with you_, or _I love you and it's enough for me_.

But I knew that it wasn't. It wasn't enough for her to abandon everything she had here, to go back to McKinley and try to pick up the broken pieces of her life.

She put her hands on my face, cupping it. Her palms were warm against my skin, even though my skin was hot and flushed from all the pent up anger I felt. She looked into my eyes and just watched me for a minute, and moment by moment, I slowly wound down. It was hard to focus on anything else other than the way her hands cupped my cheeks, the way her thumbs moved slowly over the skin there.

She edged in closer to me and pressed a soft kiss against my lips. It was feather-light at first, and it wasn't supposed to be sexy or arousing. It was a gentle, reassuring kiss. It was meant to be comforting.

It felt like all the rage drained out of me I was suddenly hollow and light. My limbs lacked stability and I trembled against her, pressing my lips together, trying to distract myself from the way that my heart ached and cracked in my chest.

Quinn pulled away from me and slid her hand down my arm, using her fingers to cup my wrist. She drew me the few feet towards her bed and gently pushed me back against the blankets and pillows.

My eyes watered and I blinked furiously. I didn't want to cry. I'd spent the last few weeks crying off and on, while plowing through midterms and finishing up the mandated anger management meetings with Mr. Neely. It didn't matter to him that I was leaving. He made me sign a contract and he wanted me to finish it.

But it was either cry and feel helpless and sad, or build myself up and keep a wall of fury between me and the world. Between me and Quinn. It was the only way I could handle the idea that we would go from spending every day, almost every minute together, to nothing. To a few sporadic phone calls, text messages, and e-mails.

It wasn't enough. It wasn't enough because I felt like I wanted to submerge myself in Quinn, to burrow into her and never leave.

I don't think that's exactly healthy, but it was true.

I think the second I realized I loved Quinn, it was like a switch got flipped. I went from trying desperately to keep her at arm's length, to avoid letting her get too close to me, to now wanting all the contact I could get. I realized that I needed Quinn and it hurt.

I didn't want to need her, and the fact that I couldn't change anything about that, either, was just one more reason to cry.

It was pathetic. I mean, what even? Who does that? Way to live up to the lesbian stereotype. I definitely lost every single bit of my game when it came to Quinn, and I didn't care.

Quinn was lifting my arms and pulling my t-shirt over my head. Her movements were gentle and loving, and she smoothed my hair back down once the shirt was off. She tugged on my sweatpants and pulled them down, tossing them on the floor. She looked at my face for a moment before she pulled off her own clothes and then lied down beside me.

I knew that Quinn was trying to revert back to her preferred method of communicating, and I was trying frantically to stop the tears pooling in my eyes. If Quinn wanted this, then I did. I wanted to let her have any part of me that she wanted, in hopes that maybe she'd understand.

I didn't think it would change anything, but I hoped that it would.

Quinn pressed soft, delicate kisses over my face, forcing me to squeeze my eyes shut.

"Are you okay?" She whispered, when the second set of fat tears plopped down my face.

I just nodded, and lifted my hands to wipe at them.

"Santana.." Quinn said, and her tone was sad.

I couldn't take that. I didn't want Quinn feeling sorry for me.

I didn't have a choice, because she immediately wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into her. It wasn't the first time since we'd heard the news, though I knew it would be the last.

"I don't want to cry. Just gimme a minute." I said, thickly, into the hollow of her throat.

Quinn just nodded and swiped a palm down my hair, threading her fingers through it.

"I love you," Quinn whispered against me.

It made my chest crack and heave. I bit my lip to stop myself from sobbing. I didn't want to sob again.

"I love you too, so much." I murmured.

It wasn't exactly what I wanted to hear from her, but it was close. It was almost enough.

I didn't have it in me to have sex with Quinn again. I marveled at that, at the fact that even though I knew I wouldn't be seeing her again anytime soon, probably not until spring break, I couldn't bring myself to take advantage of what she was offering. I felt too sad and vulnerable, too weak and hopeless.

Quinn held me until the sun began sinking and evening set in.

"We have to finish packing and head out." Quinn said quietly.

I tightened my arms around her, but nodded.

It had grown chilly in the room since neither one of us was wearing clothes, and we were on top of the blankets. My skin felt cold and numb.

Quinn pulled away first, and by reflex I did the same. I sat up and looked around at the room, which was dim and quiet.

We didn't talk much in the last hour we spent together. I started packing things the way Quinn wanted them packed, neatly and with planning. I even helped her get her stuff ready, too.

I walked out of the dorm room with my bags strewn over me and with sunglasses on my face, the same way I walked in. I felt a little stupid to be wearing the sunglasses, but my eyes were red and swollen, and I didn't want to answer any questions about it.

There was much less snow on the ground now than there had been when Sue came and visited. The storms had died down, but with the sun setting, the temperature was dropping fast. I hurried to my car in the parking lot and popped the trunk, shoving my stuff inside.

I watched as Quinn did the same to hers, and then as she slowly walked back over to me.

I looked at her in the watery twilight and tried, again, to tell myself that this wasn't the end of the world.

"We shouldn't have a long goodbye, or whatever," I said into the evening air, white clouds puffing out from my mouth.

Quinn looked at me with that pained, understanding look. "Santana—"

"No, it's all right." I interrupted her and shrugged. I felt like a hollow place had taken up residence where my heart should be located. "Really. I know I'll see you in March on spring break."

"Maybe before then. I might come down for a weekend."

I shrugged, because I doubted it. Quinn had hardly made the trip back to Lima since school started, and I didn't expect her to do it now. I didn't want her to make empty promises.

"I'll see you later, then." I crunched through the snow towards my driver's door.

"I really do love you, Santana." Quinn said into the stillness, and it caused me to look at her over the roof of my car.

She was standing by her own car door and was watching me, and her face had a hint of sorrow on it.

I struggled against the way it wanted to claw into my chest and make my heart ache all over again.

"I know." I shrugged again, and looked down at the ground. "But it's not enough."

I didn't miss the way Quinn's features contorted on a flash of pain, but I couldn't bring myself to face it. I quickly pulled the car door open and slipped in, slamming it shut. I plugged the key into the ignition and barely gave it time to warm up before I shifted it into park and began the long drive out of there.

I didn't look back, to see if Quinn was getting into her car, too. I didn't want to think about how Quinn would travel most of the way with me back to Lima, but then peel off towards the city where her dad lived with his new girlfriend. It made it harder to imagine that she'd only be a few car lengths away from me for the better part of five hours. It made it hurt more, to think about how close she was, but how impossibly far away she'd be at the same time.

I took the road that led onto the highway and set my car into cruise control, once I realized that the street lights were blurry because my eyes were leaking tears again.

I pushed angrily at my face, wiping them away. I have a bottomless supply of tears, I guess. Everything inside of me hurt, and it was some of the worst pain I'd ever dealt with.

It just seemed so sad and tragic, that right when I finally faced my own fears and let myself accept that I was in love with Quinn, that we were being torn apart.

My life, the TV soap opera.

It was worse because I never thought I could feel things so intensely for someone, ever. Nothing prepared me for this. Why doesn't love come with a warning label?

I was choking back sobs, trying desperately to keep my eyes open enough to see the road, when my car slipped against a patch of black ice. I had no idea what was happening, because suddenly I was spinning and then the car came to a sudden halt with a muted _whumph_. The impact was jarring and abrupt, and I heard something – I don't know what – crack, dimly. Then everything went black.

_To be continued…_

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** All right, so. Originally I was going to just leave it at that and not continue this story, because I didn't really have much else to do with it. But you guys just kept saying such nice things to me that it got me to thinking and I realized I do want to write more.

It's going to be a sequel instead of just longer because I want to write it from Quinn's POV.

It's going to be a few weeks before I put anything up because I want to finish my Brittana fic first. I already wrote the first chapter though, and it's pretty good.

I really appreciate everyone's enthusiasm and support with this, you guys were overwhelming and gave me a lot of confidence. I never expected the first story I tried to write to have this kind of reception. It makes me all tickled and happy.

Follow me on tumblr for updates, sneak peeks, and news on the upcoming sequel. Also feel free to ask me anything! **missmandamargo** dot **tumblr **dot **com**

Please let me know what you think about this chapter!

Thanks for everything, guys!


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